


The Long Kiss Goodnight

by SpuffyCarrie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adult Draco Malfoy, Adult Hermione Granger, Alternate Universe - Voldemort Wins, Amnesia, Assassin Draco Malfoy, Bickering, Canon Divergence - Post-Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Children of Characters, Consent, Dark Draco Malfoy, Deviates From Canon, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Final Battle, Harry Potter Lives, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Kidnapping, Memory Charm | Obliviate (Harry Potter), Minor Character Death, Not Canon Compliant - Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, Rise of Voldemort, Romance, Smut, Some Humor, Teasing, Unplanned Pregnancy, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:46:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 54,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26736094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpuffyCarrie/pseuds/SpuffyCarrie
Summary: Voldemort has triumphed.Draco Malfoy becomes a trusted assassin under the Dark Lord’s regime, targeting escaped Order members and other traitorous wizarding Britain’s worldwide for eradication.Amnesiac schoolteacher, Hermione Wilkins, lives in Australia with her parents and her daughter, a world away from Wizarding Britain, with no memory of her magical past.On March 31st, 2004, Draco is handed a note with the whereabouts of a key Order member, someone long thought dead. He organises a portkey immediately to bring them to Voldemort’s style of justice. Little does Hermione know, her life will never be the same again.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 196
Kudos: 262





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story deals with dark themes such as assassination of non-main Order characters in the HP verse, descriptions of the death of some well loved, older main Order characters, kidnapping, unprotected sex and amnesia. I in no way wish to glorify kidnap, but it is a necessary plot device in this story. If any of these things are a trigger to you, then please do not read on. As a further note, I will endeavour to include trigger warnings. You're always very welcome to DM me with any questions you have about the progression of the story. I have marked this as mature for now but it will progress to explicit once we get to certain scenes, though this story isn’t smut centric. 
> 
> Updates on a Wednesday. This fic is almost fully written, only a few chapters left to write. 
> 
> The Long Kiss Goodnight is a euphemism for death. In this story, Hermione knows nothing of her former herself and for a time has kissed Hermione Granger goodnight. Her friends and the wizarding world believe her dead. She also kisses her daughter Ayla goodnight before a long period of time away from her, so the title could also be interpreted in many ways. The story is very loosely based on the 1996 film, The Long Kiss Goodnight. 
> 
> I would like to thank my awesome beta @Riverrr for her constant advice and beta work on this story, and the amazing @Mimifreed for her beautiful artwork, you two are just wonderful people and it's been a pleasure to meet you ❤❤❤
> 
> So, without ado, let's dive into the world of The Long Kiss Goodnight.

**_May you get to heaven a half hour before the devil knows you're dead_ **

**_– An Irish Proverb_ **

**Malfoy Manor, March 30 th, 2004 **

Draco was tired, the kind of dog tired one feels when they've spent years killing mindlessly. Well, never mindlessly, more like in an intricately planned way, but it resulted in death for the target nonetheless and a lesser chance of Draco changing from cold blooded killer into the normal wizard he wanted to become. That kind of life was too far behind him to hardly remember in any great detail now and he was too far down this path of darkness for any hope of redemption, a fact he’d grown to accept.

He'd once thought, before the Dark Lord won and once the war was over, he'd marry some pretty pureblood heiress. She'd pop out a little blonde haired male heir, they'd entertain society and he might live a somewhat peaceful life while running Malfoy Industries. 

Now, with his father dead, Malfoy industries had been run into the ground and drained of cash by some lackey who the Dark Lord had deemed more experienced to run the company than the young man who'd been prepared all his life to take over. However much he'd hated the idea as a child under his father’s tutorage, he’d give anything for the life he detested as a boy. After all, what did he know then?

A loud rap on the door to his room in Malfoy Manor dragged him out of his exhausted stupor. The Manor was the only part of his old life he'd managed to retain but it had become a place filled with dark and harrowing memories, so much so, he barely left his wing. Everywhere else he looked reminded him of death or torture, or the spectres of the evil witches and wizards who carried out those acts. He saw his mother falling to pieces after his father’s execution and his mother’s wailing cries at night until Voldemort became angered by her very presence and sent her to join his father. It was an act that could almost be described as benevolence, as it was quick, and at the hand of her sister.

Draco wasn't home too often but his rooms were kept for him by the few elves who dared remain in such a place, a house where dark magic permeated every nook and occupied every cranny.

Theodore Nott was the only wizard who returned occasionally to drink and brood alongside Draco. Their friendship lacked any of its previous schoolboy camaraderie because there was no longer happiness to be found, there was no happiness anywhere, the Dark Lord saw to that from his new home and Headquarters.

Voldemort now occupied the last Minister of Magics home, Oxon Manor, Oxfordshire. At the very least he was far enough away to have little care for what Draco did. If he carried out orders, he was left to his own devices. Draco was left to clear up years of damage to his ancestral home, which was by now almost in ruins. He didn’t care, it could collapse into its foundations and Draco could not give a flying fuck.

"Sir, I'm sorry’s to be bothering you's when you're...b-busy, but there’s being an owl for you." His former nurse elf stuttered.

He felt a prick of sadness that she was now rather afraid of him.

Draco Malfoy's job as an undercover assassin was possibly the worst kept secret in the wizarding world. All manner of creatures were afraid of him, but luckily for them, he was no high executioner, that job fell to MacNair.

He took the letter from Mippy’s silver platter and read it.

"I won't require any dinner tonight. I'll return in a few days." He said rather gruffly, sending Mippy scuttling away. 

He took out an address and two photographs, pocketing them and burning the letter in the fire. 

..............

The portkey took Draco to the specified address in Singapore and he arrived in pouring rain, stalking towards the door with purpose. It always felt better to just get these things over and done with, unless there was an absolute need to confirm the intel, then he might spend a few days looking for evidence, but this was not one of those times.

He sipped on acrid Polyjuice potion. It never got any easier to choke the bitter concoction down. He turned himself into a muggle from Singapore with a hair he had extracted from a man at a local market. He had bound and stupefied him to save the local strolling on by while Draco was using his visage. It would wear off soon after he’d carried out his duties.

Draco was always careful never to leave a trail. Dead muggles left clues for muggle detectives and he didn't want his assassinations linked in any way, that was never neat enough for his liking. He cast a Muffliato around the property before launching a Bombarda, blowing the door to the semi-detached home off its hinges, his wand at the ready, along with a shield charm. A woman screamed, a face he recognised from her picture as Adelaide Diggle. Green light shot from the end of his wand with a barely spoken Avada, lighting up the hallway.

The woman's husband came running, falling to his knees at her side in anguish.

"You've killed her, you bastard! She never did a thing to anyone, never, never, never in her whole life! She was sweet and kind and I loved her. Now she's dead! Who sent you? Oh, never mind, I know who it was, you, fucking, Death Eater scum," Delagus Diggle, stood and placed his forehead on the tip of Draco's wand. "Do it! Just do it, I’ve had enough of this hell!" 

"As you wish." Draco muttered and cast the killing curse, sighing.

The drama was always the same, with them asking the same questions or saying the same things, ‘Did he who should not be named send you?’ or ‘It wasn’t me, I didn’t do it’ or even ‘If you let me go, I’ll never tell a soul’

But they would tell and then it would be Draco’s neck on the line. He’d become quite attached to his neck, after all, he’d been through torment to keep it intact.

.....

Returning to the scene the following day to obliviate the muggle investigating officers and remove any evidence they had found, Draco found a stern looking eagle owl pecking at his hotel window upon his return.

He opened the window, took the letter, and slammed it shut.

The owl gave him a look of contempt before flying away.

Slinging the package on the bed, he stripped off, stretching his muscles as he pulled his black cotton shirt over his head, unbuttoning his muggle jeans at the waist and pulling his belt through the loops.

He paused with the belt held in one hand and looked over his body in a large mirror. He worked out regularly, lifting weights and running. It showed. His Quidditch players lithe frame was now bulkier, his shoulders broader. He'd gained some height since school and his hair was cropped short like he’d worn it as a young boy. He rolled his neck and shoulders, heading for the shower.

This was the worst part of killing, he felt so pent up he needed a fuck, something quick and dirty with a brunette woman he’d pick up in a bar would usually do, but now there wasn't time, he'd be straight onto the next job tonight, more than likely. It wasn't that he got off on killing, in fact, that couldn't be further from the truth. He just felt lost sometimes. Trapped. There were few things he had control over, but that part of his life was one of them. 

Stepping into the shower, he grasped his hardened cock, using a memory he revisited often. One of the most beautiful girls in his year who he should never have dared touch, and who by rights would never have touched him, if not for the unusual situation they had found themselves in during the final battle. 

_"Oh, oh my...don't stop, Draco, please don't stop..."_

He came quickly from the auditory memory, spilling his seed in the bottom of the shower. He breathlessly watched the creamy liquid as it washed down the drain and wondered if there could ever be a better analogy for his life. 

Wrapping a towel around his waist, he returned to the bedroom and poured himself a whiskey from the mini bar.

He picked up the envelope and opened its contents.

Taking out the single photograph, he felt like his legs were going to give way. 

"Fuck." He muttered, running a hand through his wet locks. Frowning, he screwed up the note in his hand and threw it in the wastepaper bin, picking up his wand and shooting it with an absent, Incendio. 

...........................

 **Bunbury, Western Australia** **1 st April 2004**

"Now put your pens and notebooks away...quietly!" Hermione shushed her class of rowdy eight-year olds as they began to cheer as the final bell rang for the school holidays.

It was April and Bunbury Primary school broke up mid-Autumn for a few blissful weeks. Hermione couldn't wait to laze on the beach with a good book while Ayla played with friends or learned to surf with the other kids. Her parents would shut down the dental surgery for a week during the break and they all planned to fly out to Queensland and visit the Great Barrier Reef, it had been Hermione's dream holiday for years or at least the years she could remember. 

She went to collect Ayla, her daughter, from her foundation class, leaning against the door listening as she chatted with her friends. 

"My mummy is an mamanesiac." Ayla said sagely. 

"What's that?" A little girl with dark pigtails asked. 

A little boy barged her out of the way to reply, "It means she doesn't 'member things, like what her name is," he played with a car, driving it over Ayla’s arm.

"She does so know her name!" Ayla demanded, pushing the boy away sulkily.

Hermione stepped in to stop the ruckus she could see brewing.

Kissing her daughters head, she knelt to help her pack up her things. "Time to go darling. I think I might need you to help me though," Hermione rubbed her forehead with the back of her hand.

Ayla frowned in the most adorable way, nodding her head, her white-blonde ringlets shaking.

Hermione booped all the children's noses with her finger. "Because I might have forgotten the way," she threw her head back and let out a tinkling laugh. 

"Oh mummy, you're so silly!" Ayla giggled, throwing herself into her mother’s arms, as did the others. They all loved Miss Wilkins.

As they walked to the car hand in hand, Hermione felt dizzy for a moment. It happened occasionally and she had been told by her specialist that it was all part of her amnesia. Her brain could be trying to access memories she had locked away. She shook it off with a roll of her shoulders.

“Now darling,” Hermione ruffled Ayla’s hair, “What shall we have for dinner tonight?”

“Snags, mummy!” Ayla danced on the spot, her grey eyes sparkling.

Hermione sighed. She didn’t expect anything different, her daughter loved snags.

“Alright, we’ll see if grandpops will fire up the barbie for you. We’ll stop at the shop and get some.”

They arrived at their local store, Isla’s, and Hermione bundled sausages and hot dog buns into her basket, picking up salad and some shrimp and snapper for the adults. Her sweet tooth was aching for something and she knew Ayla would sniff out sweets as soon as she placed it in the basket. Her parents were still as strict as hell about sweets as they had their own dental surgery a few miles away from the house. Picking up a KitKat, she quickly went to the till and paid, realising Ayla was not by her side.

She picked up the bags, but dumped them down as she began to panic. “Ayla! Where are you sweetheart?”

Rushing around the shop, she was almost in tears. In all the time that she had no memory of her past, there was one thing which niggled her belly, something which reminded her of a different danger that was out there, she just didn’t know what it was.

“Ayla! Where are you?” She cried out.

“Here mummy!” Ayla called in reply from the other side of the shop.

As terrified as she was, she couldn’t help but burst out laughing when she found her daughter trying on a wet suit that was three times her size. The arms dangled over her hands and she was tripping over her feet as she walked.

“What are you doing you crazy little possum?” Hermione giggled.

Her little girl was the light of her life. She was funny, kind, and often more than a little naughty, like now. Hermione had to stay on her toes because she never knew what Ayla would do next.

“G’day Hermione, Ayla.” The shopkeeper, Isla, came over to see what the commotion was about.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I don’t think she’s ruined the suit, she was just playing.” Hermione apologised.

“No worries, love. It’ll be a while until you fit in that suit, young’un.” Isla chuckled.

“Darling, don’t ever leave mummy’s side, I need to know where you are at all times.” Hermione didn’t chastise harshly, but she wanted Ayla to know she shouldn’t have run off.

“I’m sorry, mummy.” Ayla pouted.

Hermione couldn’t help but draw her daughter into her arms. “No harm done I suppose. Now, let’s get back to the car so we can share our KitKat before it melts. Just don’t tell nana and grandpops.”

“Yay!” Ayla raced to get into her car seat and Hermione helped her strap in, handing her a finger of the chocolate bar.

“Don’t get it on your dress or they’ll know," she whispered.

“I won’t mummy,” the little girl smirked.

Hermione blinked, her headache suddenly returning. She had the strangest feeling someone she’d once known had the same smirk. The thought was gone as soon as it came and she was left befuddled for a moment. She ate her chocolate and felt fine again, the fuzzy feeling returning for a second when she had a thought that someone had once told her chocolate was good for making you feel better.

Once they arrived home to their large bungalow on the edge of Bunbury, Ayla rushed to get changed into her bathing suit.

“Don’t you go near the pool until I’m out there, Ayla!” Hermione called as she heard her daughter pulling open the patio doors.

“But mummy!”

“Remember what I said about the pool.” Hermione called as she emptied their groceries.

“No lifeguard, no swimming, mummy.” Ayla made a face.

Hermione could hear the pout in Ayla’s voice. “That’s right, sweetheart. I’ll be along on a minute.”

……

Draco took a portkey directly to Perth. He'd become adept at programming them and now the Ministry no longer existed there was nobody to stop him from using illegal portkeys.

He purchased some khaki shorts and white t-shirts, a pair of muggle trainers along with some aviator sunglasses. He needed to fit in, and it seemed to be what many of the tanned men were wearing.

Hiring a jeep, he began the drive to Bunbury to seek out a hotel room and watch his target.

Driving had come surprisingly easy when one imperio’d a muggle driving instructor for an intensive course and the use of magic enabled him to create any type of identification he required, from a driving licence to employment identity cards.

Draco had spent months after the war learning the way muggles lived, ducking in an out of the wizarding world and into muggle London.

By happy circumstance, on his first trip he’d come across a group of foreign visitors being schooled in the ways of muggle Britain by a woman dressed in a red jacket. He had followed the foreign people, all dressed in yellow raincoats, listening intently to all they were taught. He’d picked up a lot more by listening in on conversations in coffee shops, pubs and by wandering around muggle stores.

The wizard would never admit it if pressed, but muggles were a lot like witches and wizards, minus the magic, of course.

The information he had was limited. All he knew was a woman matching Hermione Grangers description had been seen working as a schoolteacher in the city of Bunbury. He had been given the name of the school and was frustrated as he was usually was given more information, at least an address. This time he had no idea who'd seen her or how they came to be in Western Australia. All he had was a blurry photo of a slim woman, with sun-bleached brunette curls, smiling with the sun in her eyes. She was beautiful, that was clear, but he couldn’t be sure it was Granger.

He tucked the photograph in the rear-view mirror; white, golden dust flying from the tyres as he raced off to find his mark. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco arrives in Bunbury, Western Australia, searching for his mark. Will he find Hermione Wilkins or will she slip through his net?
> 
> Thanks to the wonderful @Riverrr for her beta work and again to @Mimifreed for her gorgeous board for this story. Also, thank you to those who got in touch to say how much they were looking forward to this story and enjoyed the first chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N – This chapter includes details of the deaths of key (older) Order members after the battle of Hogwarts, nothing graphic.

**_There is no shame in not knowing; the shame lies in not finding out_ **

**\- Russian Proverb**

**Bunbury, Western Australia** **2004**

_"Hermione, you have to go, now!" The dark-haired boy in the spectacles shouted._

_"Harry, no, please, you don't understand, I can't leave you like this." She yelled stubbornly._

_"You can and you will, now take the portkey!" He demanded._

_She shook his hand off, refusing to take it._

_An orange haired boy rushed to their side, "You need to go, Hermione." The boy looked back at the chaos behind them with horror filled eyes. "Make her go now, Harry!"_

_There was an explosion and Hermione felt herself thrown against a wall, cracking her skull with a sickening crunch._

_Through noise and screams she heard Harry’s voice. "I love you, I'm sorry, be happy." She felt lips against her forehead and a pull as her world imploded._

Hermione Wilkins woke screaming with her mother at her side, shaking her awake. 

"Darling, wake up, you're having a nightmare." She felt her mother’s hand smoothing her brow.

"Harry, it was Harry!" Hermione sobbed in her mother’s arms. 

"It's okay darling, I'll get you a hot chocolate. You just relax and catch your breath." 

....

Monika Wilkins was worried about Hermione. Five years had passed since she and Wendell had found their seventeen-year-old daughter unconscious on the doorstep in a bloody mess, her hair matted with debris and in her hand, her snapped wand. 

They had rushed her to the nearest hospital and Hermione spent six months recovering from her injuries. She was unconscious for two. She hadn't recovered her memory and they'd made the decision then not to tell her about her magical past. In her jacket, Hermione had a crumpled copy of the Daily Prophet with news of what was happening in wizarding Britain. The headlines said it had been taken over by the Dark Lord and the resistance were failing in their efforts to stop the wizard, their numbers dangerously low. Hermione had begged them a year ago to leave the country and resettle in Australia using fake names and all this combined made them more afraid of her returning. Instead, they made a pact never to discuss that part of her life with her and help her back to a normal life in the muggle world.

It was a shock when the doctors informed them Hermione was pregnant, their daughter was still unconscious at that point and there was a fear she may not wake. The news of a grandchild made them more determined to keep her safe. All they’d told her was she'd attended a private lady’s college in Scotland in her past life and they didn’t know what happened to cause her injuries. Thankfully Hermione accepted it.

A year later and with some effort on Hermione’s part to study and sit A’ Level exams, Hermione had managed entry into a teacher training college in Perth. She spoke little of her past when the time arose for her to carve out a future for herself and Ayla.

Hermione began teaching, remained at home with them and had occasional dates with good looking Australian men, nothing too serious. She was a homebody with a proclivity for cooking spectacular cuisine and reading voraciously, just as she always had before Hogwarts, she just didn’t know it.

The problem was her dreams. She screamed for a boy called Harry and Monika knew Harry Potter must be dead. In fact, she guessed all of Hermione’s friends were dead or they would have sent word by now. Hermione had told the two boys where they lived, Monika was certain of that. So, when Hermione woke with nightmares, Monika or Wendell told her that the dreams were just that - dreams. They told her there was no Harry, or if there was, suggested perhaps he was Ayla’s father or someone she once knew during the time before her accident.

Monika would be surprised if Harry was the child’s father, as Ayla looked nothing like him, with her heart-shaped but rather pointy face and curly white-blonde hair which showed no sign of darkening to a shade similar to her mothers. Hermione’s had been brunette by the age of three.

She spent a lot of time convincing herself it was necessary to lie to keep her daughter and granddaughter safe, that it was best for everyone and dreaded the day her daughter’s memory returned or she had an accidental burst of magic that couldn't be explained away as clumsiness. There might come a time when Ayla began to experience magical symptoms, but thankfully it hadn't occurred yet. She just hoped her granddaughter turned out to be non-magical, it would be the best outcome for all concerned. To her knowledge, Ayla wouldn’t be getting a letter from a magical school when she was eleven as she didn’t think Australia had one, which was a relief. After five years, the lies just tripped off her tongue and she would never apologise for it. She loved her daughter and wanted to protect her, that was all there was to it.

Hermione was asleep again when she returned with the hot chocolate. She placed the mug carefully on her bedside table, turned out her lamp and peeked into Ayla’s room to check she was asleep before she returned to bed.

She was glad Hermione had never decided to strike out on her own. She was a wonderful mother, but the nightmares concerned her. What would she do if they weren't there to wake her while she thrashed? Ayla might wake and become distraught. Still, there was no need to worry in the immediate future as Hermione had no plans to go anywhere.

Beside her snoring husband, Monika took out Hermione’s broken wand from her nightstand, along with a small silver coin threaded through a chain and eyed it, careful not to touch it.

Once she’d been proud to find out her daughter was special, but when their lives had been put in danger, she began to resent it. Regardless, and whatever lies they’d woven, she hadn’t been able to bring herself to throw it away, it was part of Hermione as surely as Hermione was part of her.

.....

Hermione always felt out of sorts after a nightmare. Groggy, like she was reaching for something which was mentally just outside her grip, a shadow in her peripheral vision.

Glad it was the school holidays, she decided to battle through her headache and head for the beach in her dated, dirty orange Ford Falcon. She packed a picnic, some beach toys and Ayla’s kid’s surfboard, plus a good book and they headed to Koombana beach for the day. 

Ten minutes down the road, Hermione noticed a black jeep following behind in her rear-view mirror. When she took a turn, so did the man. She noticed him first because of his hair colour, then because she thought she knew him, though she couldn't recall ever meeting someone so good looking and with such startling, coloured hair. When she took the turning for the beach he drove on and the niggling feeling in her gut disappeared. She shrugged. This was Australia after all, the sun-bleached everyone’s hair.

.............

It was far easier than Draco expected to find her. He broke into the school where she worked, stunning and obliviating the security guard while he accessed the school’s human resources files. If it wasn’t for the pictures attached to each individual file, he might never have found Hermione Wilkins but by the time he left the school and headed back to his hotel, he knew it was Granger. She hadn’t changed a bit, still the same beauty she’d been at school, but with a totally different history, only going back five years.

As he read the files, he found out everything he needed to know, even down to the names and occupation of her emergency contacts, Monika, and Wendell Wilkins. Then he stumbled across something interesting, very interesting. Under a section marked ‘Strictly Confidential’ in Grangers medical notes, it mentioned amnesia. With not much detail, it told the story of a young woman who was found on her parent’s doorstep in 1998 with no idea who she was. Either Granger was playing at not knowing her past or she really had amnesia. Only time would tell.

In the time since he’d been doing this job, he’d never had to assassinate one of the main Order members, although he knew they were out there somewhere, and that the day would eventually come, sooner rather than later. Draco had to admit, he didn’t much fancy assassinating someone who might not have any idea why. He supposed that was the price to pay for involving yourself in a war against the Dark Lord and then going off and conveniently losing your memory.

Aberforth Dumbledore, Arthur, Molly and Percy Weasley had been executed without ceremony by McNair in the days after the battle of Hogwarts along with McGonagall and Hagrid. The Dark Lord had decided that it would be prudent to allow the wizarding world to see he could show some mercy, to enable them to trust him somewhat, so their deaths were quick, reasoning there would still be no doubt what would happen to those who went against him. Death was still death, no matter how it occurred.

As the leader of the Order, Kingsley Shaklebolt was imprisoned in Azkaban and was tortured occasionally for information. To Draco’s knowledge, he was still alive but what state the wizard was in was unknown.

Professor’s Flitwick, Sprout and Trelawny survived the war and were forced to return to Hogwarts to teach pureblood and half-blood children under the new strictly regulated regime, while Madame Pomphrey was retained as personal healer by the Dark Lord himself.

The new Headmistress of Hogwarts was the niece of Augustus Rookwood, Aneira Rookwood. Draco had heard she was firm but fair and it could’ve been far worse for the children of Hogwarts.

He knew Ronald, Ginevra and George Weasley were unaccounted for, as were Bill and Fleur Weasley, Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood and Parvati Patil. Charlie Weasley had been spotted at a remote dragon reserve in Romania but escaped on an enraged Hungarian Horntail when Draco arrived to kill him, heading in the direction of Russia as Draco shot emerald Avada’s into the night sky.

Charlie Weasley’s capture was the only attempt of Draco’s that had failed, and he was livid about it, his previously unblemished record ruined. He had a permanent scar across his already scar-dappled chest and a slight tremor in his left hand from the repeated Crucio’s he had endured at the hand of the Dark Lord for that loss.

Harry Potter was missing, possibly dead. Nobody had seen a body, but the Dark Lord was so livid when Potter had escaped the final battle that he had announced, once he was found, Potter would be hung, drawn and quartered, his body parts sent the four parts of wizarding Britain as a deterrent to the nation against any further attacks they may desire to make.

Following his find at the school, Draco hunkered down for the night, digesting the information he’d found and the next morning, he waited outside the house for a glimpse of Granger from five am. He cast a disillusionment charm over himself as a man and woman he gathered were the parents left at seven.

At nine am, a slim brunette woman with curly hair and a little blonde girl exited the house.

The fact Granger had a previously unforeseen child piqued his interest. Her school file hadn’t mentioned that.

He watched as Hermione turned her back and the little girl dropped a ball she had in her hand. It rolled down the path and she ran to the road to fetch it.

A red car was speeding down the street as she stepped out to collect her toy and Draco lifted his wand in panic, casting an Impedimenta which slowed the car to a crawl and finally a stop.

He breathed a sigh of relief when the muggle driver turned off its engine, jumped out, and kicked the front tyre in annoyance, opening the bonnet angrily and peering inside.

Draco barely stopped himself from casting a finite Incantatum and allowing the car to run the fucker over but he was also inexplicably annoyed with Granger for taking her eyes off the girl.

The little girl looked directly at him, like she could see right through the disillusionment charm and showed her ball to him.

“Hello,” she gave him a breath-taking smile and waved a tiny hand in his direction.

Draco inhaled a deep breath. Surely, she couldn’t see him. Children were odd little things and had imaginary friends, or so he’d read somewhere, though his mind refused to accept such an explanation for what had just occurred. It was beyond bizarre and he muttered to himself about stupid muggle children not watching out for cars.

Granger hadn’t noticed the girl run out of her sight, only turning to call to the child after and berate her once she discovered her near the road. She packed the little girl into the car after giving her a talking to about road safety and they pulled out of the driveway.

He couldn't say with a hundred percent certainty that Granger was the woman as she was wearing sunglasses, but her telling off the child reminded him of how Granger used to tell Potter and Weasley off at school and he felt the chill of déjà vu rocket through his body.

Pulling his jeep out smoothly, he recanted the spell of concealment and followed them for a while with his stomach swirling. It wouldn’t do for muggles to think his Jeep had no driver, it would draw unwanted attention.

He observed her glancing into her rear view more often and realised she had clocked him. Making a snap decision when she turned towards the beach, he sped past, pulling over at the side of the road, stumbling out and vomiting up what little breakfast he’d managed that morning onto the dusty yellow grass of the verge.

Wiping his mouth, he wondered what the hell was wrong with him. He’d been killing for years but this child had caused him to do something he would have been sent to Azkaban for before the war; he’d performed magic in front of a muggle. Not only that, but the girl belonged to his target and he’d saved her life like a fool. Would it not have been better to allow nature to take its course if the girl was to lose her mother anyway?

Draco knew he was kidding himself that she wasn’t Granger, of course she was. He had seen her picture in her file and taken her address; there was little doubt about it and there was no need to see her eyes to know it.

It was her demeanour, her every movement. It was the tender smile she gave the little girl as she made sure she was safely strapped into her car and the coils of brunette, sun-bleached curls which had once reminded him of a birds nest.

The thing which upset him most was the fact the child looked almost exactly like he did as a child; white blonde hair, light grey eyes, everything apart from her curly locks, which were all Granger.

Fuck.

_"Oh, oh my...don't stop, Draco, please don't stop..."_

Five years. It had been five, almost six years in May since he’d heard those words gasped out loud. He shook his head. No, this couldn’t be true, she couldn’t be his daughter.

He jumped back into the jeep. He had to get his head back in the game. Even if the child might be his, it didn’t mean Granger would not have to die.

This assassin had a job to do, because like anything in his life since he was sixteen, he had to kill her, or the Dark Lord would kill him.

Draco knew anyone from the trusted circle who crossed the Dark Lord would be ended in most painful way possible, he'd seen it first hand. There would be no mercy or quick death for the likes of him.

....

“Sweetheart, we’ll need to go home soon, it’s almost dinner time.” Hermione had packed away their things some time ago but was having difficulty getting her water baby out of the ocean. She was standing with Ayla’s large Peppa Pig beach towel ready for her daughter, feet in the surf and sinking into smooth sand with waves lapping over her ankles.

“But mummy, please, just one more swim,” Ayla begged.

“Sweetheart, we can come again tomorrow but we need to get home to Nana and Grandpops. They’ll be starving after their long day at work,” Hermione pretended to pout, “poor Nana and Grandpops.”

Ayla looked longingly back at the water and then harrumphed, plodding through the sand and allowing herself to be wrapped in the towel with only her little head poking out.

“My, my, look at this mop,” Hermione ruffled her wet curls, “It’s looking like a rat’s nest. Now, let’s get those togs off and put your sundress on.”

“Yuck, mummy! I don’t want rats in my hair, get them out!” Ayla burst into hysterical tears.

“Oh, darling, come now, it’s only a saying,” she said in a soothing tone, hugging her baby close, wrapped tightly in the towel. Ayla was exhausted after a long day of playing and tears were often her reaction after being told they were leaving.

“Love you.” Hermione planted dozens of kisses over her face as Ayla squirmed.

“I love you too, mummy,” she giggled forgetting all about rat’s tails and water.

............

Draco ate a simple lunch in his room at the hotel, ignoring the flirtatious interest of a blonde in uniform who delivered his room service and slamming the door sharply behind her.

He snatched the time to make some calls to bring to fruition the plan he had developing in his head. He tried to justify why he had just secured a place to take Granger, or why he had hired security and servants whom he fully intended to put under the Imperious curse. He’d been trained to think of nothing but the death of the mark but this time deliberately neglected to think too much more about what would happen after he carried out his plan.

He returned to watch the Wilkins house.

Granger and the girl returned around five, both looked exhausted but happy and he noted the young girl was sucking her thumb and dragging a toy dragon behind her.

He pursed his lips. He’d had a similar toy dragon as a child.

Slamming his fists on the steering wheel, he willed himself to get a grip; the child had nothing to do with him.

“You’re a killer, plain and simple,” he hissed to himself as the Wilkins returned from their day at work, dressed in the same pristine white outfits they’d left in.

They stopped to chat about some roses in the garden that he knew his mother would have adored and he squeezed his eyes shut at the invading, painful memory of her. 

Draco waited for his opportunity. He would wait all night if he had to.

One thing he knew about a target, was soon enough they would be caught alone.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Since we know this is story where Hermione goes missing, this chapter ends with her loss...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always to @Riverrr for her beta work and the cute pics she sends to keep me going. Also to @Mimifreed for her gorgeous board for this story.  
> Thank you to everyone who's been in contact to tell me they're enjoying this so far, love you loads!

_It is better to light a candle than curse the darkness_

\- Chinese Proverb

**Bunbury WA - The Wilkins House**

“Mummy, who’s that man?” Ayla was standing behind her bedroom curtains with her face pressed up to the window.

Hermione’s heart lurched and a shiver ran up her spine, though she decided not to make anything of it in front of Ayla. It was likely her imagination and she knew her daughter wouldn’t sleep if a fuss was made.

“Never mind that,” Hermione tickled her through the curtains, “I asked you to brush your teeth. You don’t want another lecture on toothcare from grandpops, do you?”

Ayla squealed, running towards the bathroom in her pink unicorn nightie.

Hermione waited until she could hear brushing sounds before she peered through the blinds. She couldn’t see anything apart from the last of the sun reflecting against something near the road, causing a dappled effect, she blinked. Jack a dandy, that was what she’d heard this called by the children at school, though she had no idea why. She allowed the curtain to drop after several minutes of looking out into the twilight, happy to find there was nothing there.

“Hop on up then, my angel.” Hermione held open the covers for Ayla to climb in. There was often a chill at night at this time of the year, so Hermione pulled up a fluffy blanket.

“Where’s Pendragon?” Ayla suddenly sat up.

“Don’t panic, he’s here.” Hermione soothed, handing her daughter her stuffed dragon, and settling the toy in beside her in the bed.

“Now, which story shall we read tonight?” Hermione looked over the bookshelf filled with children’s books. Ayla loved to read as much as Hermione did.

“Raising Dragons!” Ayla cried out happily.

“Alright then, let's settle down.” Hermione climbed onto the bed.

“Pa didn’t know a thing about raising dragons.” Hermione began, glancing to Ayla who was sucking her thumb and rubbing her dragon’s tail between the thumb and forefinger of her free hand. “He raised corn and peas and barley and wheat. He raised sheep and cows and pigs and chickens. He raised just about everything we needed for life on our farm…”

Several pages later Ayla’s eyes fluttered closed and Hermione leaned down to kiss her goodnight, easing herself from the bed, turning off the bedside lamp before switching on Ayla’s nightlight.

Tiny golden dragons swooped through the shadows as the light twirled and she paused at the door, feeling nothing but love for her beautiful little girl.

Sometimes she wished she had the answers to the inevitable questions to come about why Ayla didn’t have a father, or who her father was. With no idea what she would say, she decided she would ponder those answers when the time came, if they came at all.

Padding down the hall and past the lounge, she heard her parents watching a horror film on the TV and decided she would finish tidying the kitchen after dinner. Horror had never been her bag; she always got a headache when she watched and ended up finding a quiet corner to read somewhere else in the large house or taking a late swim in the pool.

Loading the dishwasher, she cleaned down the countertops, put the leftovers in the fridge and emptied the bin.

Passing the lounge with the plastic sack, she heard a woman screaming loudly and shook her head, wondering what her parents found so fascinating about the film genre.

Opening the front door, she stepped out onto the sloped front garden, following the path to the side of the bungalow where the outdoor refuse bins were kept.

The streetlights flickered and then went out, causing pitch black, apart from a few visible stars above her head.

“Damn it!” She swore, trying to see where she was going by the dim light from inside the house.

When she opened the bin lid and a hand slid around her mouth. She froze and her muffled scream was covered by a louder shriek from the TV inside the house.

“Don’t scream, don’t resist me and your family won’t get hurt.” A voice growled in her ear. “Your little girl is in bed upstairs and the door is open, your parents are otherwise occupied. It would be so easy for me to enter, wouldn’t it, Granger?”

Her brain felt like it was rolling around inside her head as she heard the voice. She knew she’d heard it somewhere before and a ripple of fear rushed through her body.

Hermione knew she could kick out, she could fight him, but then he’d hurt her family, her baby, her Ayla.

She slowly nodded, although it was the last thing she wanted to do.

He muttered something and her mind disappeared into a well of darkness. 

…..

Draco had waited a matter of hours along the road in his disillusioned jeep and had seen the little girl curiously peering right at him from her bedroom window.

There was something about the way she was looking at him, which made him uncomfortable as if she could see right through his disillusionment charm. He’d seen Granger look out the window herself with a frown, then turn back into the room to tuck the child into bed and he’d moved closer, watching through the gaps in the blinds and listening to her calming voice through the barely open window as she settled the child into bed and read her a story. It was about dragons and Draco’s belly swirled with something he couldn’t name when he saw how much Granger loved her little one. Steeling himself, he’d returned to his vantage point in the jeep to wait for Granger to make one wrong move. If she let her guard down once, she would be his.

A while later, Granger had just wandered out of the house in the dark to put out the rubbish and he knew then that was his opportunity. As stealthily as possible, he shot a Duro spell at the streetlamps, turning them instantly to stone and extinguishing all light, barring the muffled light from the houses.

He could have just killed her then and there; it was what he was there for after all; but since he’d seen her again, he was curious about her, about the child and keen to know if she would remember him. 

Using the Muffliato charm, he crept close to her without her realising he was there and when he grabbed her and told her he would harm her family he knew she would give him no trouble.

Draco thought she’d fight and scratch, anything to get away, but she hadn’t, she’d just agreed when he’d threatened her family. He was far superior in strength and he knew she would do anything to keep her family safe, to keep her daughter safe, she’d keep quiet to prevent them from coming outside.

He could have stunned her, but he knew the sound of her dropping like a stone or the flash of his wand might be noticed by the resident muggles, so he decided on physically taking her, only using Petrificus Totalus at the very last moment. 

Bundling her into the jeep, he cast a disillusionment charm over Hermione’s ramrod straight body and a Colloportus to lock the front door to the Wilkin’s bungalow as he made his getaway.

Confident no one had seen them, he pulled away for the house he’d secured on the edge of town.

While he drove, he mused over Granger's predicament. Potter could have obliviated her, that was one option. Another was she’d genuinely lost her memory. Both he and Granger had been in a bad way when they became trapped together in the final battle and he knew Granger had a bad head wound even before she ran off to fight again.

He would figure it out because whatever happened when he ended Granger, he needed her to know exactly who she was.

…………………………………………

**The Final Battle Part 1, May 1998**

Draco had been cornered by Granger of all people. Terrified, he’d run into an abandoned classroom. He was panting, she was going to kill him, or make him a prisoner of war, he knew it. The look on her face was one of pure ire, her clothes covered in dust, her wand stretched out as blood slid down both sides of her face and her hair was scattered with small pieces of rock and stone.

"What are you doing here, you idiot?" She screeched at him.

He didn't understand the question and sequestered himself behind an old desk, hoping to put some distance between them.

"What am I doing here? Seems like a stupid question for the supposed brightest witch to ask, Granger."

"Don't mess with me, Malfoy, you're possibly the biggest idiot I've ever met, and I don’t have time for idiots. You shouldn't be here, you're no killer!"

"Aren't I? And you think this because you know me so well," he sneered, his voice like ice.

Hermione sighed and lowered her wand a fraction.

"I think I've lost enough friends and fellow students to know how I feel. Don't you think I care what happens to you too? I admit, sometimes I wonder why, but I know you're not like these bastards, you're not like him."

She was alluding to the Dark Lord and his followers.

Draco wasn't like them; he'd proved that by being unable to kill Dumbledore. Where he faltered, an elder Death Eater would not have hesitated. Now he had to prove himself or his mother’s neck was next.

"I may not be as cruel as those bastards but I'm an excellent duellist and if you think I'm going to allow you to kill me—"

"We don't kill, not if we can help it," she interrupted with a huff, dropping her wand to her side.

“In war, there’s often no choice, not if you plan to win,” he said cautiously moving closer, hoping to make it to the door before she realised what he was doing. She had let her guard down and she was right in some ways, he wouldn’t kill unless he had to.

She frowned at his tone, but she had to try one thing, she had to ask him to defect or he would die here today. “Look, Malfoy, it’s not too late—”

“It is too late!” He made his way towards her. “It’s too late for me, too bloody late for you to think those courageous tosser’s you’re with would ever believe I could fight for them,” he sneered cruelly, standing over her as she looked up into his eyes defiantly.

His throat went dry as he noticed the cinnamon and chocolate hues in her warm toffee coloured irises. He’d never been so close to her before and his hand itched to read out and smooth the curls away from her jawline which were thick with her blood and stuck to her face. Even with that, she was still a lovely witch. 

Blood. He wondered why it always came down to blood between them.

Both winced as a series of loud booms crashed along the hallway. Looking at each other in alarm, they rushed to the doorway. 

The whole side of the corridor was missing as a giant wielded a huge hammer towards them. 

Hermione screamed in terror, neither able to lift their wands in time.

"Granger!" Draco roared, grabbing Hermione and throwing his body over hers. 

……………………………………………………………………………………………

**Bunbury WA - The Wilkins House, Present Time**

Ayla was inconsolable.

“Nana, the man!” She screamed, “The man took mummy!”

She ran out of her room, rushing to the front door and pulling on the handle.

“What man?” Monika, rushed to her side, taking her face in both hands, and trying to make sense of what she was saying.

“H-he was here earlier. Mummy said I was being silly, but I could see him. I-I heard a noise and got up to look out of my window, he took her, nana, the strange man with the white hair took her!” She screamed.

Wendell tried the door but it wouldn’t budge, so he ran to the back door, shoving open the side gate and ran out into the street yelling Hermione’s name, but he found nothing apart from their wheelie bin on its side and a rubbish bag strewn across the grass. He ran further up the road calling out to her.

Lights in other houses came on and people came into the street.

“Have you seen her, our Hermione?” He begged, “She’s been taken by someone, my granddaughter saw it from her bedroom window!”

A small group of neighbours gathered in their nightclothes, trying to help the inconsolable man.

“We’ll help you look, what was she wearing?” Alf, their next-door neighbour called as he marched back to his bungalow to grab some shoes.

“Have you called the cops?” Another asked.

“No…we, w-we just, it just happened,” he rushed back inside the house when Monika finally manged to open the front door.

“This is our fault, it has to be him, the dark wizard.” Monika hissed, hugging Ayla close and covering her ears.

“That it may be, love, but there’s not much we can do about it now if it is, there won’t be any way to track her in the wizarding world. If we tell the coppers she was taken by a wizard, they’ll ship us off to the psych ward.”

“Then what shall we do, Wendell?” Monika snapped.

“Hope and pray, love, just hope and pray.” Wendell had tears in his eyes.

“I’m calling the cop’s, I don’t care if they can help us with this. If we don’t report her missing then we’ll have no way to explain her sudden disappearance and it might not have been a wizard, it might’ve been an ordinary man,” Monika rushed away to the telephone.

“For what good it’ll do,” Wendell said sadly as he found himself with a sobbing armful of Ayla.

He knew this day might come, the day when they came for Hermione. He cursed himself for not taking her and running long before now, but they’d found her once, what was to say they wouldn’t again.

Wendell, the police, and their neighbours searched for Hermione all night, but Wendell knew it was all futile. He knew they needed to try to get in contact with someone from the wizarding world, but how. How would they enter, without magic or someone to help them.

He sat up all night as Monika held Ayla in her bed, the child’s sobs only subsiding with exhaustion at around 3 am. It had been a tough night, with the search and statements being taken by the police. The one question he couldn’t answer truthfully for them was whether Hermione had any enemies or anyone who might want to harm her. He knew the answer but shook his head regardless and said no.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the end of the last chapter, Draco had kidnapped Hermione. What he does next remains to be seen...  
> Thank you to everyone who has sent their love and commented. I love to hear from you all.  
> Thanks to the wonderful @Riverrr for her beta work and support and again to @Mimifreed for her gorgeous board for this story.  
> Also, I'd like to thank @SamadiW who has drawn the gorgeous picture featured at the end of the chapter. Thanks so much sweetie <3  
> Postings every Wednesday.

_In a battle between elephants, the ants get squashed -_ Thai Proverb

**Bunbury WA – The Safehouse**

Draco drew up to the safe house in his jeep. The modern glazed house sported an infinity pool, gym, sauna, movie room and several other windowless rooms in the basement, should his guest become testy. A large patio with outdoor dining and tropical flower arrangements surrounded the pool and the space was an open plan; exactly what was needed to ensure Draco’s guest was always visible.

He had used the alias, Mr Riddle; which mildly amused him; to rent the property for one year exactly, although he fully expected he would be leaving after a week at the most.

“Higgins? Higgins! Bring the staff out here.” Draco called out to his bodyguard, a smartly dressed, burly man with dark, slicked-back hair and huge hands that looked like they could crush a man’s windpipe.

Higgins had sauntered outside the modern glass house once he heard the car, the shadow of his rather bent nose noticeable in the light behind him. The man had been honest with Draco from the outset, he was desperate for work because he’d been working as an illegal underground bare-knuckle fighter and owed a lot of money because he’d refused to kill his opponent. The man hadn’t been aware that Draco had used Veritaserum on him and all those he interviewed and had told him everything, even down to his mother’s address. Draco had to know they were trustworthy.

Lucas Higgins took one look at Draco and strode back inside to gather everyone Draco had employed that afternoon. The man had a dark and commanding air about him, and Lucas knew from the outset he wouldn’t be a man who abided fools gladly.

An attractive tall woman entered the courtyard sporting tight braids and an intricate tattoo upon her chin, wearing a pristine chef’s outfit. She was the first to exit the glass doors from the main building. Draco remembered her mentioning she was from New Zealand. She was alone and working in Australia for a year, so seemed fair game as she was unlikely to be missed. Her name was Kaia and she had also told him everything about her life. If he wasn’t about to place them all under the Imperius curse, he might have thought twice about engaging Kaia. She seemed keen to find out his motives with the house and looked suspiciously at Draco, her eyes occasionally glancing towards his Jeep, though he knew she couldn’t see his cargo. 

Higgins followed seconds later with his crew of three security guards, Hudson, Issac and Logan. Each was similar in looks, sandy blonde, blue-eyed, archetypal surf bums, dressed in black shirts and trousers with a submachine gun slung over each of their shoulders.

Draco wasn’t too sure if the guards would work out if he wasn’t about to control them, they seemed like they might be a little too excited in their new-found occupation and perhaps trigger happy.

The last to attend him was Tristan, the male housekeeper, stroke, Butler, a small man with peering eyes, a defiant look and a large bunch of keys hanging from the belt of his black suit.

“If I could just have your attention for a moment.” He lifted his wand and murmured, “Imperio.”

Their eyes glazed over, and he began to list his orders.

“You will protect Miss Granger and thwart any of her escape attempts. You will always remain on site. Food and beverages will be replenished, and all your needs met. Miss Granger is not to be harmed in any way and you will not touch her unless there is a need to stop an escape. You will be reimbursed more than fairly for your time here when you leave. You will not question anything that happens here, however strange, you will not remember anything that happens here, the location of this house, nor who employed you.

Furthermore, you will only enter mine or Miss Grangers chambers if called upon to do so. To show my gratitude, you may use any of the facilities when I am not using them, please keep the noise to a minimum. Needless to say; there is to be no drinking or imbibing of illegal substances.

Lastly, the house is protected by an invisible shield and I will know if it is triggered. No one will be able to enter.

Tristan, please ensure Miss Granger's room is ready and then everyone may leave us to undertake their duties or head to bed. I will expect two guards on duty and two guards off over twenty-four hours, beginning now. I expect hypervigilance tonight as it is likely Miss Granger will try to run.”

Returning to the Jeep he cast a Mobilicorpus and floated Granger into the lounge. Setting her down on the large L-Shaped sofa, he lowered the lights.

As Draco expected, Granger moaned and immediately tried to run as soon as he released her with Finite Incantatem.

…

Hermione began to fight against nothing as she was launched back into the present.

She didn’t stop to look at her captor, she just saw a door and raced for it.

The use of magic upon her person and the finite had released some memories of her past and she found her brain going into overdrive, her breath coming quickly as her body went into shock. She remembered a castle, a battle, the face of a boy with round spectacles, green eyes and a scar on his forehead, the face of a little girl, a class of school children and the feeling of someone grasping her waist outside her home, covering her mouth. Memories raced through her mind at an alarming rate. 

The door was open, and she stumbled through on shaking legs towards the main front door.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” A male voice spoke.

She reached out for the door handle and found herself thrown back several yards, skidding across the polished white tiles of the foyer and hitting a plinth holding a large vase, which tottered and smashed beside her. She winced at the pain as her kidneys hit the tall pedestal. She scrambled back on her hands, as far away from the man as possible.

“Those aren’t the doors to where you’ll be staying,” he added.

“How dare you kidnap me!” She shrieked.

Looking up, she saw a man she recognized from some of her returned memories. He was leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed, a smug grin on his face.

Draco, sodding, Malfoy.

“Sweet Merlin, Granger, I’d forgotten quite how high pitched your voice could be when you’re angry,” he chuckled.

“What is it you want, Malfoy?” She demanded.

“It’s not about what I want. It’s about the job I’ve been sent to do,”

With his response, realization hit, she was in grave danger.

Hermione got to her feet, running towards another door. Finding herself in a small library, she saw another door concealed in the corner and rushed to it, opening, and finding a store cupboard.

Malfoy stayed put, watching her as she rushed from room to room, eventually finding a kitchen and rooting through the drawers for a weapon. With a hoot of triumph, she found a knife block on the counter and drew out a pristine, glinting silver carving knife and returned to the foyer.

Malfoy’s eyes widened a fraction, beginning to draw his wand

“By rights, I should kill you, Malfoy,” she sneered darkly.

Draco sneered back, his eyes meeting hers in a challenge, “Do your worst, Granger. As you can see, I’ve got my weapon.”

As he began to lift his wand, her reactions were far quicker, and he barely moved his head aside in time as she threw the knife with astounding precision, aided by the return of her magic which was thrumming through her veins with adrenaline. It lodged into the doorframe beside his ear, its momentum causing the sound of a boi-oi-oi-oi-oing.

“Why, you little bitch!” He bellowed, “You could’ve killed me!”

“Isn’t that what you’re here for? The kidnapping? Bringing me here? Don’t think I don’t know who sent you! My daughter better be untouched because I’ll rain down Circe’s vengeance on anyone who dares to harm her. I think you’ll regret underestimating me, Malfoy!” She gave him a look of hardened disdain.

Striding forward, he slammed his hand on the glass wall above her head, causing her to wince and turn her head away.

He was silent for a moment, and she shivered once she realised what he was doing.

Draco nosed her hair aside, his breath caressing the fine hairs at the nape of her neck. “This will work much better if you just let me do my job,” he murmured against the shell of her ear.

“Huh. If you were going to do your job, Malfoy,” she enunciated his name as if it sickened her, “then I would be dead already,” she mocked.

“Don’t fucking goad me, Granger, you might not like what you get.” His voice was low in warning.

“Where’s my room?” She pushed him away from her, “I’m tired and I want to be somewhere you are not!” Hermione levelled him with a look of indignant disdain which he met with equal contempt.

“Presumptuous of you to think I would have a room for the likes of you. For that stunt you deserve to be chained in the cellar.” He narrowed his eyes, “It’s upstairs, second door on the right.” Before she left he grabbed her chin forcefully, “Don’t bother trying to run, the guards will shoot on sight,” he pushed her away.

She knew Malfoy of old, she’d even—Oh, Godrick, she remembered him in the final battle and felt sick at the memory of what she’d done. She’d fucking saved him and for what? For him to steal her away in the night to end her life.

Rushing to the stairs she took them two at a time, desperate to get away from him. Pausing at the top, she stopped and turned to find him watching her. He looked guilty, but still steadfast in his need to keep her there, she wasn’t stupid enough to expect she could talk her way out of this one.

“Do me one favour, Malfoy, for old times’ sake,” she said clearly, so there was no doubt in what she was asking.

He shrugged aggravatingly while raising his eyebrows in question.

“Do it quick,” she requested simply.

His demeanour changed and she could swear she saw his shoulders sag slightly.

He nodded once more, and she left to find her room.

…

Draco was in turmoil. As soon as he was on the receiving end of her fire and passion, he began to doubt his plan. Now that he’d found her, he wasn’t sure he could live in a world where Hermione Granger no longer existed.

There was also the matter of the child, who he’d realised could be his.

He made his way to the lounge and poured himself a glass of Cognac in a snifter glass, draining it in one go before heading to bed. He was exhausted and he knew he would need to be on his top game against Granger.

Walking to the top of the stairs he paused outside her door, hearing low sobs from inside.

Moving on, he entered his room and pondered what exactly he would be doing next.

…

Hermione had eventually wrapped herself in the comforter from the bed, curled up in the corner of the room and cried when she realised the windows of her room were covered by bars.

The room was beautifully decorated in Oriental furnishings, the ornate four-poster bed, ensconced in jade green drapes, adorned with peacocks and golden swirls.

She had searched the room for something to use as a weapon as soon as she entered, pulling open drawers in the navy and gold armoire, finding only clothes, silk pyjamas in her size, designer clothes, silk lingerie and stockings, bikini’s, dangerously high heels and lavish cocktail dresses.

The vanity unit in the En-suite bathroom was filled with potions, makeup, hair styling provisions, along with expensive shampoos and conditioners, bath oils and extra plush towels. A green silk dressing gown hung on the back of the door.

There was nothing; even the nail file was a flimsy emery board; so, unless she planned on shooting shampoo in Malfoy’s eyes, she was thoroughly buggered.

She cried, not because he might be about to kill her, but at the realisation he may be holding her here, expecting to become his concubine, someone he wanted to dress up like a doll. There was no way that would be happening. She would make this as difficult as possible and he would rue the day he decided to mess with Hermione Granger.

…

**The Final Battle, Hogwarts, May 1998 - Part 2**

Draco woke to a searing pain in his head and Granger below him pushing at him to move. Their legs were entangled, and he realised his hands were palm down over her breasts. 

He began to cough up dust and she turned her head to the side. "Move, you big lump!" She hissed. 

"I'm trying," he croaked, feeling large chunks of original eleventh-century stone against his feet. There was some light filtering through, and they seemed to be encased in a protective bubble the size of a small tent. 

"My wand," Hermione groaned at the snapped length in her hand. More blood had begun to flow from the wound in her head and she touched her hair with her free hand and when she pulled it away and saw the blood, her eyes rolled back. 

"Granger? Shit - Granger!" He hissed, searching for his wand, it was nowhere to be found and he guessed he'd let go of it in the blast.

He could hear shouts in the distance but couldn't be sure who they were or where their allegiances lay. There was no point in calling for help. He ripped his black shirt and began to softly mop up the blood in her curls.

Killing somehow felt like it would be easier if he didn't have to look into someone's crazily fascinating and intelligently brown eyes. Something inside him didn't want to be responsible for the death of Hermione Granger, even if it might give him some standing or notoriety amongst the other Death Eaters. So, he convinced himself he was patching her up to bring to the Dark Lord. Yes, that was it. 

Granger had a small, beaded bag and it felt like a violation peeking inside, but knowing Granger, she'd come prepared in some way. The extension charm surprised him, she was a talented witch, it was a shame she was a mudblood. He rooted around, bypassing all the books, and finding some small potion bottles, wormwood, honey water and, ah, the essence of dittany. He un-stoppered the bottle and poured a little on her wound. Investigating it closer, he noted that it looked like a dangerous spell had barely skimmed the crown of her head. 

He shook her arm, "Granger, wake up" 

Her eyelashes fluttered and he was relieved to see her eyes open. He ripped some more of his shirt and poured some honey water onto the cloth, wiping her face. She was disturbingly human up close and warm to the touch. Regardless of whether he knew mudbloods weren't aliens, the fact she felt so normal was strange to him. The way his father described them, they could have had scales, horns, and cold blood. 

"Malfoy? W-what happened?" She rolled her neck and it cracked disconcertingly as she pushed herself up to a seated position.

He lifted her hand and continued to clean up the blood in case she saw it and passed out once more. 

She stared as he wiped her hand and he could sense her glancing up at his face occasionally, even in the low light. 

"You didn't have to do that," she murmured, lifting her hand to cup his face, "Thank you." 

He swiftly changed tack, he couldn't have her thinking he cared, they were at war and they were enemies. 

"Don't overexcite yourself, Granger," he sneered, slapping her hand away, "I just didn't want to be enclosed in the same space as you and your dirty blood, it was purely self-preservation."

"Why do you do that?" She held her hand to her chest like she'd been burned, hurt in her eyes.

"Do what?" He felt along the rocks, looking for a way out that wouldn't pull the whole lot down on them.

"Show your capability for kindness and then hide it again, like being kind or gentle is the worst thing in the world?" She said gently.

Hermione stared deep into his eyes and he felt himself falter. He kept up his bravado. 

"Are you saying I have a hidden Hufflepuff inside me, Granger? As that must be the most idiotic thing I've ever heard. I'm a Death Eater, I'm a Slytherin, a Malfoy and I. Am. Not. Your. Friend." He enunciated through gritted teeth. "Contrary to popular belief, not every boy you bat your eyelashes at will fall at your feet ready to be bossed about.”

"I-I don't, bat my eyelashes at anyone," she began rooting through her bag, pulling out two bottles of water. "Do you want this to be your legacy? We could die here, nobody's coming for us, they're all fighting,” she said softly from the dust-filled rubble as she handed him one. 

He watched as she broke the cap and drank, he followed her lead and did the same. He doubted she would try to poison him; that wasn't her style. Hermione Granger was upfront about everything, he knew that of her.

"Dying is a possibility, Granger, either here or outside if we escape” he wiped the back of his hand over his mouth, silent as he sat with his hand resting one raised knee. 

"This could come down on us at any minute," he said eventually, "we don't know how much rock is loaded above us." 

She nodded, meeting his eye with a challenge. "Then tell me, Malfoy, is this how you want it to end?" 

Her chest was heaving, and he noticed for the first time her top was ripped, exposing part of what had once been her lacy white bra, now rather greyed with dirt. Once he'd seen it, he couldn't stop looking, his blood pumping with adrenaline. If this was the last time, if he was going to die, then, fuck it. 

"Malfoy, I asked—" 

He launched himself forward to clutch her face with both hands, smoothing her hair from her face. She gasped most delightfully but didn't pull away.

Gorgeous artwork by @SamadiW


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh Lord, Hermione and Draco are in the same house now, who knows what will happen. 
> 
> Huge thanks to my beta @Riverrr for her work on this story, and the amazing @Mimifreed for her beautiful artwork.

_Before you score, you first must have a goal -_ Greek Proverb

**Bunbury WA – The Safehouse**

Hermione stretched as she woke the following morning to sun streaming over her from the open curtains. The realisation quickly dawned on here that this wasn’t her room, and she revisited the previous day's events with a scowl.

She had found her way to bed eventually, still wearing the clothes she’d worn the previous day.

Stealing out of bed, she noticed a small clock on the bedside table, it was six am. She didn’t want to change, didn’t want to give Malfoy the satisfaction of seeing her wearing the clothes he’d provided or using the toothbrush from the bathroom. If she stayed a disgusting mess, he might not come near her and that was her first plan.

So, she crept from the room instead, heading downstairs in search of water. She felt parched from all of her tears the night before.

There was a wonderous smell of eggs and bacon cooking and she followed the direction of the scent, finding herself back in the same kitchen she had stolen the knife from the night before.

She noted the knife block was now gone there was a cupboard with a lock above where it had been previously.

Great.

Unless she planned to attack Malfoy with a whisk or spatula, it seemed her options were becoming increasingly limited.

“Good morning Miss,” the chef greeted her cordially, not looking at her.

“Um, please, could I get some water?” Hermione inched closer.

A man walked up behind her and Hermione flinched.

“If you’ll follow me, miss, breakfast will be served by the pool,” the suited man said.

Ice pricked through her veins as she saw his eyes. They were dead, a translucent, milky white colour. It could mean only one thing; the Imperious curse. Malfoy that abominable fiend. He had them under an unforgivable.

She had no choice but to follow the man out into the sunshine, covering her eyes with her hand and wishing for her sunglasses. At that wish, they appeared in her hand.

So that was how it was going to be? Malfoy would grant her every wish, like some evil and mocking Genie. She wished for a wand, then the sword of Gryffindor. When neither arrived, she couldn’t say she was surprised. It appeared that was every wish, within reason.

Realising there was somebody swimming in the pool, she peered at the person, realising from the flash of wet blonde hair that it was Malfoy, and he was butt naked. His long muscular arms sliced through the water, barely disturbing its calm aqua with an arse you could bounce a galleon off.

She averted her eyes, not wanting to be caught gawking.

Taking the seat offered to her by the butler, she reached out for the glass of water as he poured it, drinking it back greedily. He poured her another and then another.

She noticed the table was filled with all manner of fruits and pastries, continental meats and cheeses, along with coffee and several different types of juice. Her stomach complained loudly, and she felt like she hadn’t eaten in days. She would refuse the food and that would be her second act of resistance. She nodded, agreeing with herself that the plan was an excellent one.

She caught Malfoy exiting the pool in her peripheral, he seemed unashamed of his nakedness and only slung a white towel low around his waist as he neared the table, rubbing his locks with another pristine towel.

“Good morning, Granger,” he greeted, sitting at the opposite end of the table and giving her a once over with a raised brow, “Was the clothing not to your satisfaction?”

“Oh, fuck off, Malfoy!” She got up and left the table, returning to the house.

Draco eyed her uneaten food with amusement; so this was how she was going to play it.

Calling Tristan over, he asked him to ensure Kaia cooked a mouth-watering barbeque for lunch.

….

By the second morning when Hermione arrived dressed in the same clothes, her hair a bird’s nest, and her body again unwashed. Malfoy was beginning to lose his cool. She was clearly hungry but had yet to eat a morsel of food.

She had locked herself in her room for most of yesterday and appeared only when Tristan called her for meals, advising her that his employer would come and forcefully retrieve her if she did not come to the table.

“This is getting old, Granger, you’re only harming yourself by not eating,” Draco tutted as he watched her stare longingly at the food but not pick up a utensil to eat it.

Tristan placed a plate of scrambled eggs on the table before her.

Draco got up immediately, strolling to her chair and leaning over her shoulder.

Hermione jumped as his warm and still slightly damp chest pressed against her back after his daily swim. Her nipples hardened against her will as he lifted her fork and ate some of her eggs.

“See? They’re not poisoned. that’s not my style, Granger,” he pushed away from the back of her seat and returned to his own.

“Oh, I think it is, Malfoy, don’t you remember the poisoned mead?” She replied contemptuously.

His eyes turned dark and his jaw ticked as he ground his teeth at the reminder of his failed attempt to poison Dumbledore. “That was a poor attempt. If I truly wanted to do that now, I would do so in a flash.”

“I won’t be eating, and I won’t be washing, not until you let me go!” She spat, standing, picking up a jug of orange juice and pouring it over his head.

He slammed his chair back and grasped her wrist, “I’ve had enough of these childish games. You will wash and you will eat, or you’ll be made to. Have I made myself clear!” He growled, wiping his face with his napkin and throwing it on the table.

“I will not! I won’t do a thing you say, you bastard. Kill me or don’t kill me, but unless you plan to get on with it, I’m not doing it!” She shrieked.

“Right!” Malfoy grasped her by the waist and threw her over his shoulder, marching towards the house.

Hermione kicked and screamed for him to let her go, pummelling his back with her fists all the way to her bedroom. She was terrified. What was he going to do to her? Oh, Godrick, surely, he wouldn’t stoop so low as to hurt her, or do something worse?

She fought, tooth and nail, scratching his back into welts as he strode into her bathroom and turned the shower on cold.

She gasped and hollered when he unceremoniously dumped her under the cold spray.

“You’ll stay in there until you’re clean! You smell worse than a Centaurs arse and I’ll be burning those clothes once you remove them, so, I suggest you find something suitable to wear or walk around naked. Either way, you will brush your teeth and your bloody hair before I see you again or I will tie you up in the basement instead.”

“I won’t, I won’t do it and you can make me!” She screamed as he closed the bathroom door behind him.

Under the frigid spray, she came to terms with the fact her plan wasn’t working. She stumbled out shivering and removed her sodden clothes.

She knew, to find a way to get Malfoy to trust her enough to form an escape plan, she had to change tactics. She was exhausted, like a child who’d just thrown a temper tantrum and needed a nap.

Sighing, she turned the water in the shower to hot, gathered some shampoo and conditioner and re-entered the shower.

Plan B, it would be. Kill him with kindness or seduce him, she was undecided over which just yet.

….

Draco’s back was scratched to ribbons and he was livid. That little bitch. He only allowed a woman to do that in the throes of passion and although Granger had been crazed with passion, it wasn’t the same, it was of a different kind.

He was filled with a fit of anger only a good work out or a rampant shag would cure, so he headed to the gym. Running on the treadmill until he thought his heart might explode.

What the fuck was he doing here with her? He should just do his job and leave but something niggled at his conscience, something about the tiny girl with the curly blonde hair and grey eyes, the girl who loved dragons. He knew he couldn’t do it, not to her and not to Granger.

He turned the treadmill up and pushed harder.

….

Hermione shaved her legs and dried her hair, smoothing it with some sleakeasy’s potion she found in the bathroom and pulling it into a high ponytail. Applying some light makeup, she finished with a sweep of bubble gum pink lip gloss.

Now, the next thing was to select something to wear.

Pulling open a drawer, she found the silk lingerie once more and selected a black lace thong and matching push up bra, pulling them on and feeling rather bare around her buttocks. Thongs weren’t her style, she tended to go for boy cut knickers, but for lack of anything else, she shimmied into the items.

Next, she needed to choose a dress but found there were dozens on hangers. Selecting one, she pulled it on and moving to the mirror, she slipped on a pair of high heeled pumps. Yes, this would do, this would do indeed.

As she carefully stepped down the stairs, she heard loud music blaring from the gym towards the back of the house. She had retained the layout in her mind, knew where every door and window was, every possible weapon. 

Malfoy was throwing punches at a punching bag; he wore a pair of white boxing shorts which came down to the knee and low on his waist. His upper body was naked. She couldn’t help but bite her lip as his muscles rippled powerfully, gasping when his body turned, and she saw the scratches she’d made. They were livid where she had sunk her nails into his skin and she wanted to feel ashamed for doing it because it wasn’t like her, but she couldn’t. This wizard had kidnapped her, taken her away from her daughter and was likely to kill or do Merlin knows what to her. His upper cheeks were flushed pink with exertion and rivulets of sweat slid down his chest. He was concentrating and didn’t see her at first.

She leaned against the doorframe, crossing her bare legs at the ankle, as she waited for him to notice her.

He glanced up and did a double-take. Stopping the swinging punching bag as he gawked at her. He came to the realisation that there was a smoking hot body hidden under Hermione’s generic clothes all along, not that he didn’t know that.

Cocking his head, he took in the sight of Granger in a black bodycon dress, it’s hem hardly meeting mid-thigh. Gone was the unstylish muggle teacher and the frumpy oversized cut of her school uniform and in its place was a smouldering sex kitten.

She met his eyes in a challenge and a knowing look as she turned and sauntered away, her sleek ponytail swinging as she walked.

He chuckled, aware of exactly what she was trying to do. Didn’t she know he made it his business to know what made his every mark tick? No, he supposed she didn’t, but it was going to be fun watching her try. That ponytail though, he wanted to tug on it and…no, that wouldn’t be happening.

Draco showered and made his way to lunch. He’d requested a lunch of smoked salmon, avocado and prawns, followed by barramundi and salad.

She was waiting at the table when he arrived, wearing dark sunglasses and he wasn’t able to read her eyes. Her legs were crossed, with a napkin spread over her lap as she tried to appear nonchalant.

“Granger,” he nodded, “you look nice.”

He sat in his usual seat, opposite her, with his back to the pool. Draco had dressed in a linen shirt and khaki shorts. The day was baking hot and he’d been sure to cast a charm to protect his pale skin from the sun.

Her visage faltered and he suppressed a grin. Clearly, she hadn’t been going for nice, she had been going for hot, or damn sexy, but he wasn’t going to give that to her, not after her performance that morning.

The appetiser arrived and he noted Granger couldn’t help herself, she shovelled the food down in a most ill-mannered way. She had to be starving. He watched her lick a piece of crushed avocado from the corner of her mouth with her tongue and his mind wandered.

_"Oh, oh my...don't stop, Draco, please don't stop..."_

She cleared her throat, lifting her sunglasses over her eyes to glare at him and he realised he’d been openly staring at her tits. They were pushed up high in the dress as the neckline was rather a low cut.

Shuffling in his seat, he lifted his cold glass of wine to his lips.

Granger noted the carafe of wine her end, and drinking down the contents of her glass, he eyed her as she poured herself another, waving Tristan away as he attempted to assist. She drank down another half with a giggle and leaned back in her seat.

“Granger, far be it for me to say, but you ought to slow down, the wine is strong, and you haven’t eaten for a few days,” he tried. It was all he could say, but even after one and a half glasses she was beginning to look like she might slide out of her seat, legs akimbo.

“Oh, hush. I can handle my drink. Anyway, you’re not my father.” She poked her tongue out at him.

With the way he’d been eyeing her body, he thanked Morgana for that.

“So, when will you kill me?” She asked as if she didn’t have a care in the world.

Draco was mid-sip of his wine and spluttered, causing the wine to run down his chin.

Hermione stood and tottered over to him. Taking his glass and placing it on the table, she leaned forward so she could be sure he got a good eyeful of her cleavage before she proceeded to lick up the spilt wine from between the dip in his collarbone, up under his chin and to the corner of his mouth.

“Mmm, yummy,” she declared, running her forefinger over his lower lip, and proceeding suckle on it indecently.

He sat in stunned silence until anger swirled in his belly. This move of hers had pissed him off and he grasped her by the wrist.

“Don’t play with fire, Granger!” He stood and pulled her flush with his body, ensuring she felt his erection against her belly, “I won’t touch you unless you ask me to, and, believe me, you will.”

Tension crackled in the air around them and Hermione shoved him off, turning him so he fell backwards into the pool with a huge splash.

He fell into the shallow end and swiftly stood, wading to the side of the pool, his face like thunder.

Whether it was the alcohol or desperation, Hermione took that moment to run for the large wooden gates of the property. Pulling off her heels and running until her chest hurt.

Draco was walking at a fast pace. He knew she wouldn’t be able to escape; his wards would see to that. She had no wand, and even if she did, he’d set an anti-apparition spell.

“Help!” She screamed, “help me, somebody, please!” She begged.

The guards were by her side instantly, corralling her away from the gates as Draco reached her.

For the second time, she found herself crying out as she was slung over Malfoy’s shoulder.

“I hate you! I, fucking, hate you!” She screeched.

As they reached her room, he lowered her to the floor and slammed her up against the wall, his eyes dark as he spoke to her turned head. "I don't want to hurt you but if you run again, I'll be forced to—"

"To what? Hit me? Avada me? I think we both know what you're here to do, so why drag it out? Just get it over with. Just leave Ayla be, she's my baby. I can take this if I know she'll be safe." 

He dropped his head, his lips were close to her cheek, "And what if I don't want to kill you, Granger, what if I want something else?" He murmured. 

Gooseflesh erupted all over her body at his words. What could he mean? But she knew, she knew what he meant in her heart. 

"Get off me!" She struggled and pushed her into the room throwing her onto her bed. She tried to escape again but he was above her, his hand on her throat, pinning her legs between his straddled legs.

"Don't push me! I've been nice to you so far but if you push me, I'll..." his lips hovered over hers and he could feel her breath coming hard and fast. It would be so easy just to dip his head and kiss her inviting lips. 

“Nice? This is nice? I’d like to know what nasty is!” Her eyes searched his, and in their depths, she found something dark, like black fire, burning lust or need, she couldn't be sure.

"Don't touch me." She hauled back and slapped his face. 

His eyes were crazed, and she thought for a moment he might hit her back.

Draco grabbed her by the wrists, "This is not Hogwarts and you don't get to slap me again, witch," he growled. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As always huge thanks my awesome beta @Riverrr for her hard work on this story, and the amazing @Mimifreed and @samadiw for the beautiful artwork. Also to everyone who has commented or contacted me over on Tumblr, you are all awesome, please don't stop letting me know what you think. 
> 
> The end of Chapter 5:
> 
> "Don't touch me." She hauled back and slapped his face.  
> His eyes were crazed, and she thought for a moment he might hit her back.  
> Draco grabbed her by the wrists, "This is not Hogwarts and you don't get to slap me again, witch," he growled.

_Shared joy is a double joy; shared sorrow is half a sorrow_

\- Swedish Proverb

**Bunbury WA – The Safehouse**

Hermione realised by the look on Malfoy’s face that she had pushed him too far. She tried to convince herself she regretted pouring orange juice over his head, pushing him in the pool and slapping him, but she didn’t. He deserved it for taking her, keeping her away from Ayla, for keeping her sequestered away in a house, Godrick knows where.

The tension was palpable between them as he held her wrists over her head. His pupils dilated and she could feel his erection against her thigh. She wanted to feel disgusted at his rough treatment, but if she was deeply honest with herself, it turned her on. His t-shirt was wet. It clung to his pecs and she wanted nothing but to reach out and trace her fingers over the peaks and troughs of his chest and abdomen.

Memories of them fucking in a small, confined space, thinking they were going to die, rolled deliciously around her mind, urging her to do something.

It was obvious to Hermione that he had no intension of killing her, but she couldn’t fathom why he wanted her there. He was supposed to hate her and, although she had screamed that she’d hated him, she didn’t, not really. She needed to get home to Ayla, though he seemed to know everything she was thinking, whatever she had planned to try to escape. She was confused by her feelings, muddled by the memories which had begun to emerge and concerned by the excitement coursing through her body.

She knew what the needling feeling of a Legilimens felt like, after all, she’d been captured during the war, although she couldn’t quite find that memory, not yet, and she was sure he wasn’t using the technique on her. How did he know? Was he just able to consider every possibility?

As she thought about the war, she began to realise there were people she loved, and their faces began to come to her. The process of her memories returning to her seemed to come in fits and starts and this time snippets of conversation appeared to her from nowhere.

_“Her wand’s broken, she can’t fight like this, Harry. Ron’s right, get her out of here.” A kindly woman pleaded. Molly, it was Molly._

She struggled, tears running down her face and soaking into the comforter below her. He released her arms and sat back on his haunches with a look of concern he tried to hide.

“Are they dead?” She implored.

“What?” He looked nervous.

“Tell me! Are they all dead?” She began to sob.

“Mostly. I believe there are a few…” He began.

“Was it you?” She demanded.

“Not during the battle, but after I—”

Hermione didn’t let him finish and she could see him getting frustrated, angry even, but it didn’t stop her.

“Are Harry and Ron, s-still? A-are they—?” She couldn’t finish. A large sob almost stopped her breath.

“They are still at large. I haven’t been sent any leads on them recently but that doesn’t mean there aren’t any,” he ran his hand over his jaw and climbed off her legs, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. He couldn’t look at her.

“So, then tell me how it works. Someone sends you information and you go and murder them, is that it?” She choked out.

“Yes,” he gave her a short and succinct answer as he had no clue what else to tell her.

“Who sent you information about me?” She needed to know.

“I don’t know. I’m sent the information and I act on it. Someone saw you in Bunbury, reported you as a schoolteacher. They said they couldn’t be sure it was you. It was a lead I was to follow up.”

“You found it was me almost immediately, didn’t you?” she continued her questioning, “did you kidnap all the others and make them wait like this until you killed them?”

Draco opened his mouth, as if about to say something and then swiftly closed it.

His silence said it all.

“Huh, you kill them as soon as you arrive, don’t you?” She got onto her knees, “Don’t you? But not me, why not me?”

Draco squeezed his hands into fists, his knuckles turning white from the pressure. He could feel his blood rising and stood, slamming his fist into the wall, “What the fuck do you want from me?”

Hermione emitted a forced laugh, “What do you think I want? The fucking truth, Malfoy, I want the truth about what happened since I last saw you, since I lost my memory, every bloody word.”

“I can’t give you the truth, Granger!” He roared, his eyes hardened, his pupils the colour of flint.

She opened her mouth once more to speak.

“That’s enough!” He yelled, turning for the door before he said something he regretted.

"I know you're better than this," she ventured in a small voice.

"You always were delusional, Granger. I'm a killer, pure and simple and you're nothing more than a job."

With that, Draco stormed out of the room. He couldn’t take anymore, he had to get out.

….

He was in his Jeep, roaring down Ocean Drive, Bunbury’s beach road, overwhelmed by his own frustration. The scenery was amazing, but it only blurred into the background as he focussed on the road before him.

Why did Granger have to be so damn inquisitive? Why did her memories have to return now? He knew it would be question after question until he gave her some answers. He’d already told her too much to allow her to live. She knew what he did and who he worked for. She also knew Potter and Weasley were alive because he couldn’t keep his big mouth shut. If she found a way to get word that she was alive to the rebels, then there could be coordinated attacks or eventually a new uprising against the Dark Lord.

How could he tell her that in his own fucked up way, he had always cared about her? That he hadn’t stopped thinking about her since they became trapped together during the final battle. That he’d berated himself a million times because he didn’t defect when she’d asked him to.

Now he was in an impossible position. He had become the very thing he’d always tried to avoid, a murdering monster. If he didn’t kill her and she was spotted again, then whomever was sent next time would Avada her on sight, she wouldn’t stand a chance.

A white truck cut across his lane and he exploded. Tempted to take out his wand, he yelled at them instead, honking his horn.

“You, fucking, wanker!”

He felt like he might hyperventilate and pulled into the side of the road, gasping for breath.

“Fuck!” He smashed his fists down on the steering wheel.

.........................................

**The Final Battle, Hogwarts, May 1998 ***Part 3*****

His touch was gentler than she expected at first, as if he thought she might shatter like glass, or knowing him, cut crystal. Each kiss and touch was measured, carefully made, and she realised he thought she might ask him to stop if he pushed things too far. She wasn't inexperienced, she had lost her virginity during the previous summer to a neighbour’s son who came home from University. He was never going to be the love of her life, but he was sweet in a boyish way and soft, where Draco was all sharp lines and hard muscle. He was skinnier than she remembered than when she admired him in his Quidditch gear, but his body still fuelled her lust. 

Ron was in the back of her mind, but she doubted anything would come of it. He'd never made a move. They'd spent the day searching for the final Horcruxes within the castle, but she'd become separated from them both when Harry left to search for the diadem and Ron let go of her hand in the chaos. 

He leaned back, trailing his fingers through her hair with a reverence she'd never experienced. 

"You've always been beautiful, Granger. I'm just sorry I didn't tell you," he murmured against her lips.

"There's no need to lie to me. I want this and I'm not going to let you do anything more if you treat me like some pureblood princess. Make it real, passionate and there might be a chance I might get off before I die," she smiled in challenge.

Draco felt the fierceness of that statement, she wanted it rough, hard, real and in every way he'd never been allowed before with the Pansy Parkinson's of this world. Suddenly, he felt the same, he wanted it like that if it was to be the last time for them, and his heart raced at the thought. Her smile lit up the dark space like a beacon and he kissed her, pouring every thought he'd ever had about her into that kiss. Hatred, lust for her beauty, annoyance at her beating him in class, the times he'd cocked his head and watched her walk away like she was an enigma he couldn't figure out, the times she'd shine as she chattered with her friends at the Gryffindor table. 

Hermione gasped as he pulled her to him, kissing her harshly, his hand grasping her hip and pulling her flush with his body. She moaned as his tongue met hers, tangling and growling as he fought hers for dominance. His hands felt like liquid fire as they melded over her rib cage, almost counting every step before they reached her breasts. 

Granger cried out when he thumbed her nipples and he desperately pulled off her hoodie, panting as he ripped open the white vest top, he found underneath. Her hands pushed off his suit jacket and pushed up under the ripped shards of his shirt, small hands wandering over his chest and reaching for his belt. He took a deep breath and held her hand on his belt. 

"I know this could be...I...look, I need to know if you want this, that you're not doing it because I want—Shit, Granger, I want you but I need you to say it, say you want this," he asked breathlessly. 

She reached up to cup his face like the first time, her fingers gentle yet demanding. "I want this, I want you." 

Draco had never felt such tenderness, such want. No other witch had ever made him feel so desperate for her. He reached for the button of her jeans and she helped him push them down her legs. 

The rocks shifted, raining dust down upon them as Hermione's leg accidentally hit a stone near the wall behind Draco. 

"Please be quick, we might not have much time," she begged. 

Draco pushed down his trousers and rudely lifted her legs to his hips, placing his fingers in the centre of her bra and pulling until it ripped apart, launching his lips down to suckle on her nipples. 

Hermione arched into his touch, the feel of his mouth on her, the fact he'd ripped off her clothes had driven her into a frenzy. She grasped his hips and pulled him to where she wanted him, "Draco, please," his true name left her lips in the heat of passion as she writhed below him. 

When he parted her folds with the tip of his cock he grunted as she lifted her hips to push the rest of him into her. He almost spilled himself inside her like a young boy having his first wank. 

"Shit, Granger, Her...Hermione, you feel so good, like silk and... Godrick...perfect, so fucking perfect."

She urged him to move and he did, palming her throat and leaning back upon his haunches as he began to plough deeply inside her. 

Draco almost lost his mind as he watched her fingertips drift over her nipples, then through the valley between her breasts and down through the dark thatch of hair between of her legs. 

"Touch yourself, let me watch you bring yourself off on my cock." He snarled as he pistoned his hips into her, nipping at her neck, "Do it!" He ordered, feeling her shiver against him. 

As his hips slapped against hers, his every move brushing her clit, Hermione could only feel herself raising higher and higher, seeking the pinnacle of her pleasure. 

"Oh, oh my...don't stop, Draco, please don't stop!" 

He fucked her harder, faster, until he felt her clench like a vice around him, her body arched, her nails raking his back, letting out a wild moan as she twitched below him. Only then he spilled inside her with abandon, feeling such pleasure as he'd never felt with any other witch. 

As their breath settled, he laid his head against her breast. "If this is it, then I'll die happy," he chuckled.

She let out a giggle filled with such happiness he thought it had all been a dream. 

Her laugh dropped away, and reality slammed back so quickly Hermione could scarce believe it. She heard her name called from a distance. 

"We should get dressed; it sounds like the cavalry has arrived," she blurted. She wanted to say something, to wish he might come back to her or even say something tender, but they were of two different worlds and could never be together, however well they fit physically. 

He pushed away from her and grabbed his clothes, not meeting her eye, "Don't think I see you as anything better than a good fuck." 

"I wouldn't dare," she winked as he dared to look at her as she picked up her ripped bra, stared at it and then swiftly tucked it in her pocket.

They'd barely dressed when Harry and Ron pulled back the stones from above them. 

"Christ, are you alright Hermione? We thought you'd been captured by Malfoy, it looked like that on the map." His eyes were wide as Draco stood and jumped through the gap. 

"We were trapped under the rubble; we made a truce which is over once I leave here safely," Draco drawled, stepping out over the rocks and sneering at them. 

Ron lost his temper and slammed him against the wall, his hand at his throat, "You fucking pig, if you touched her, I'll kill you with my bare hands!" He roared. 

"I wouldn't dare, would I, Granger?" Draco raised an eyebrow and leered, his eyes piercing hers.

"Let him go, Ron, I promised him safe passage as long as he didn't kill an Order member today, he has my trust." Hermione stepped out, hugging Harry and moving to take Ron's arm. She noticed Draco's wand on the floor, intact and she picked it up, and slid it into his hand, brushing his fingers with hers. Her wand hadn’t been so lucky, it was snapped, and the end hung loosely, a little like Ron’s in second year when he tried to make Draco eat slugs and instead ended up vomiting them himself.

They watched as Draco ran. 

"Thank you for rescuing us." Hermione sighed, stretching her limbs. 

"Are you going to explain why we've just let Malfoy go?" Harry placed his hand on her shoulder, watching while Ron stood at the gap in the wall. 

"Because he could've killed me, and he didn't."

She wanted to tell him more but now wasn't the time and she doubted she would ever tell him everything. 

Harry nodded, rubbing his scar with the heel of his hand. "Right, we need to get on."

…………………………………………

Hermione waited patiently for Malfoy’s return, taking lunch in the library as she opened a book for the first time since her incarceration, Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger. For a moment she saw a classroom in her mind, filled with young, smiling students in her mind’s eye, she had the same book open on the desk before her. Beside the book sat her wand. Her fingers twitched and she felt its loss keenly. 10¾ inches in length, made of [vine](https://harrypotter.fandom.com/wiki/Vine) [wood](https://harrypotter.fandom.com/wiki/Wand_wood) with a [dragon heartstring](https://harrypotter.fandom.com/wiki/Dragon_heartstring) [core](https://harrypotter.fandom.com/wiki/Wand_core). She’d got it at Ollivander’s when she was eleven. She remembered the feeling of taking that wand in her hand and casting her very first spell, it was exquisite, like she’d found a long-lost part of herself she hadn’t known before.

The text felt familiar and warmed her heart. She forgot the pain of everything that had happened that day as she found the section on the forgetfulness potion. Her heart began to race as she turned the pages with clammy palms. Could it be that someone had administered such a potion to her? Closing her eyes, she tried to remember but nothing came. The more she forced it, the more everything seemed further away.

Clambering out of her seat, she looked through some other books until she found another large tomb and returned to her seat at the reading desk to open it, scanning its contents until she found a more in depth explanation.

_‘The Memory Charm (Obliviate), also known as the Forgetfulness Charm, is a charm that can be used to erase specific memories from an individual's mind. It is different from the charm that creates false memories.’_

A memory of herself drifted into her mind. A young girl with her arm up above her head as she informed the professor of the answer to a question.

Certain this wasn’t what had happened to her, she began to search books on magical maladies. There was nothing on head injuries; or nothing specific to what might have happened to her; and she concluded she hadn’t been obliviated. The previous book told her that it was difficult to restore memories once a witch or wizard had been obliviated, and somehow upon her arrival at the house, she began to recall her previous life almost immediately. 

Ayla’s face appeared in her mind and she fought the urge to cry. She wanted to get back to her daughter but being here was like a puzzle she needed to unpick. How could she return to Ayla as half a person, someone who didn’t know everything? No. She would find herself and return to protect her daughter, whatever the cost.

Getting back to work, she was mulling over whether Malfoy had returned her memories somehow, or whether his spells being cast over her had caused her to recall the past, when she heard his Jeep pull into the drive.

Hermione sighed. She was tired of fighting and could happily have remained in the library for the rest of the evening, but it appeared her peace was about to be shattered.

Draco loomed in the doorway like a spectre, his eyes on hers.

“I’m sorry about this Granger,” He pointed his wand at her and muttered, “Incarcerous.”

Ropes wove around her and bound her to the high-backed chair; Draco wasn’t going to risk her attacking him again.

“What are you doing? I-Is this it? Don’t I get any last requests?” She raised her chin defiantly, struggling against the ropes but her lower lip wobbled, betraying her bravado.

He ignored her and left the room, returning several minutes later with a glass of cold water.

"Sorry to keep you waiting Granger."

"For you Malfoy, it’s always a pleasure to wait," Hermione replied, her voice heavy with sarcasm.

His eyes flickered over her face for several moments and she squirmed under his gaze.

If this was the end, she had to make sure Ayla was alright, that she wouldn’t be bothered by the likes of him when she was gone.

“My little girl is your daughter!” She blurted out. She’d been toying with telling him for some time and this probably wasn’t the right moment at all. Still he’d know and perhaps it would encourage him to ensure she was left alone.

“That's priceless, Granger. I really didn’t think you would stoop so low. How can you expect me to believe she’s mine?” He brushed it off like he couldn’t care less.

"Don’t you remember our little tryst during the final battle? Was it so meaningless that you decided it wasn’t worth remembering? Was I so utterly rubbish as a shag?”

You were perfect, sublime and I will never forget it until the day I die, he thought. Draco remembered her underneath him as they desperately tried to make their final moments matter. She had been with him; they had been as one in their hopelessness and that moment had stayed with him ever since.

He didn’t reply, he just closed his eyes and tried to force the lump in his throat to dissipate before she saw it. His suspicions had been right, the child looked too much like him not to be his.

“Do you think I went around shagging any Death Eater who’d have me? I thought we were going to die, we comforted one another, so, if you don’t believe me and you're going to kill me, promise you'll leave her alone, promise me!”

Draco hesitated, he had no plan to kill her, only to talk, to explain.

“Granger do stop getting your knickers in a twist, I’ve tied you up to stop you attempting to assault my person again. I simply had no wish to be thumped or beaten with that book you were reading.”

“For what? Why do you want me here? I demand to know; you tell me right now!” She thumped her feet in the floor like a petulant child.

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose; her shouting was giving him a headache.

“Granger, do shut up and allow me to explain.” He said, hardness in his voice. He knew she was about to speak once more and got there first. “I will only explain everything if you remain quiet.” He growled.

She nodded; her brown eyes inquisitive in that way he adored about her. Hermione Granger was a sucker for information, she soaked it up into that overly large brain of hers and probably filed it away in a plethora of filing cabinets, all in alphabetical order.

“I’ll begin at the final battle, after I…after we…” he cleared his voice, “when Potter and Weasley saved us and I left,” he began.

He could feel her eyes on him, taking in his every movement and probably attempting to read his body language.

“I think the fact we were trapped was the catalyst which swung the war in the Dark Lord’s favour. I spent most of my time trying to avoid confrontation with Order members and following you to…” he sighed and shook his head, “and following you to make sure you were alright, it felt like the least I could do after we...” he paused. “I overheard your conversations with Potter about the Horcruxes and realised you hadn’t found enough of them as the battle came to a head.”

Her brow crinkled as a visual of that time threaded its way into her mind. “I think I remember. The time Ron and Harry spent looking for me ate into the time we spent searching for Rowena Ravenclaw’s Diadem and we didn’t find the time to enter the Chamber of Secrets for the Basilisks tooth. We had no way to destroy the diadem and found ourselves fighting, unable to spend time working out a plan.”

“Longbottom managed to kill Nagini with the Sword of Gryffindor but that still left the diadem. It’s in the Dark Lords possession, under wards so strong nobody will ever break through them. He managed to take hold of the diadem when he fought Potter, who seemed wholly unprepared for the task. He barely escaped with his life; in fact, I’m surprised he did.”

Draco felt sorry to be the one to continue and tell her about the deaths of most of her friends but if he was going to tell her the truth then he wouldn’t skate over the details.

“I watched Potter and Weasley prepare to send you away via portkey, there had been an explosion, I think the projectile came from above. You were thrown about twenty yards and you hit your head. You may remember when you saw me in the upper corridor that you already had a head injury, it may have already contributed towards your memory loss. You were bleeding badly, and I watched Potter take out his wand, muttering something I had no way of hearing as he placed the portkey in your hand, and you were whisked away. You had your broken wand in your hand, and I think they sent you first because there was no way you could fight on.”

Unchecked tears were running down Hermione’s cheeks, “I would have, if they’d just let me, I would have healed my head and carried on,” she reared forward and snarled. 

“You couldn’t and you know it! If it was me, I’d have done the same, you were done, your wand was broken Granger!” Draco barked back at her.

She settled back in the chair, her face crumpling and her bluster deflated.

“I can only tell you as I saw it. I’m not telling you this to upset you, but you asked and I’m relaying the battle as I saw it. Now, shall I continue?”

Hermione nodded and hiccupped a sob.

“The Order only had one chance to get it right and whatever series of events that occurred, put a stop to it. Some Order members had portkeys as a means of escape, I saw them pull necklaces out and press the sickle hanging from it. What happened to those who died I don’t know, perhaps they lost theirs or were trying to protect friends or family as they escaped, perhaps they decided to fight to the death? I know Molly and Arthur Weasley stayed to give their children more time to apparate. I watched it happen and I was privy to their later executions.”

At the time he’d thanked the stars that it wasn’t his mother. He hadn’t watched the final death blows of those who’d been captured, but the Dark Lord had already decided who would live and who would die.

“Kingsley Shaklebolt was made to watch the executions of Aberforth Dumbledore, Arthur, Molly and Percy Weasley, Headmistress McGonagall and Hagrid. He stood in magical chains, only yards from them as it happened. He remains alive, as do many of the Hogwarts professors, or those who were pure or half-blood.”

“No!” Fat tears dropped onto her lap as she heaved for breath. The people that she loved were dead and it felt like everything they’d done had been for nothing. The year on the run, the sacrifices made, the deaths in the first part of the battle. “You’re lying! For all I know the Order might have won, they could all be there, waiting for me to come back,” she wept.

“Do you really think I would be here if that were so? That I would have been released after my part in the war? That Potter wouldn’t have come to find you? I’m sorry to inform you that I am telling you the truth, much as I lament the fact.”

She cried for some time and Draco took that time to offer her some water. He took out a handkerchief and handed it to her. She looked up, her face a picture of misery.

“Do you wish me to continue or is this too much?” Draco could feel himself sweating and his chest felt tight with something he couldn’t place, guilt perhaps? Telling her this was much harder than he had anticipated.

“No, I need to know. Please, what about Harry and Ron? Ginny? Did the Weasley children escape?”

“Yes, although it is only a matter of time before they’re caught. The Dark Lord has spies in every country of every continent on the planet and he has a specialist unit combing the world for them. There are posters everywhere of them, Potter, of course, is undesirable number one. They may choose to hide in the centre of the Brazilian rainforest, or the remotest mountain range and they will still be captured eventually. The Dark Lord has convinced the magical communities of many countries to join his cause, but many are still resisting, Australia for example,” he swept a hand through the air in indication of the place in which they currently resided, “It is only a matter of time before they submit.”

“What of your part in all this?” She spat, again pulling against the ropes that bound her. “For Morgana’s sake, just release me, I won’t try anything.”

Draco wasn’t risking that. He’d watched almost every possible emotion cross Granger’s face in the past ten minutes alone. She would be a loose cannon if he released her. “That’s not going to happen. If you wish to hear my story then you’ll be quiet, or perhaps I’ll just leave you here for the night?”

The look of contempt she gave him was on par with the look he had seen her give the Dark Lord during the final battle.

“I became a killer,” he said simply, trying not to relay any emotion.

“But why, Draco? You were no killer, in fact you were a terrified child when I last saw you.”

She sounded like she was trying to talk him out of what he was, and he thanked her for her attempt at redeeming him of the awful truth. Alas, it was the truth.

“Whether you think I am, or I am not is of no consequence. It is what I am. I hunt and kill magical folk for the Dark Lord. I do his bidding and he allows me to live, that is how it works.” He attempted to remain stoic on the outside, but he was in turmoil on the inside as she gave him a look of disbelief.

“H-how did it start?” She said softly.

“Ah, the eternal question, Granger,” he chuckled bitterly, “It began when my father was murdered. He angered the Dark Lord with his inability to keep his mouth shut, trying to advise him on matters he had no part in. My father thought, because the Dark Lord won, he deserved his promised place at the Dark Lords right hand. It was given to my aunt Bellatrix and that pissed my father off. Lucius was kept in the dungeons at Malfoy Manor for weeks being eaten alive by a skin eating curse.”

Draco could still hear his father’s screams along with his mother’s as she began to lose her mind.

“My mother became mentally ill, she wandered the Manor in a daze, muttering or shrieking. I tried to keep her contained and even Aunt Bella showed a softer side during this time, begging her to keep quiet lest she further anger the Dark Lord. The knowledge that Potter was still out there somewhere had made him cantankerous and very quick to dole out punishment to anyone who did not follow his commands to the letter. He had threatened mother once and that was her only warning. I think he had a soft spot for her; as much as such a monster can; as in her prime she had been an excellent hostess and quite the strategist. Had she been well, she may possibly have gone on to be part of his inner circle.” He placed his hand on the back of his neck, pulling it away and wiping his hand on his shorts as perspiration pooled at the nape. “One day he’d had enough and Avada’ d her in the foyer of the Manor after a particularly lengthy episode of wailing. She died with a smile on her face, like she wanted to die. It was pitiful.”

Bile threatened to rise into his throat, and he choked it back. Gulping, he avoided Hermione’s eyes, which he was sure would be filled with pity.

“From that day I was informed that Malfoy Industries would be run by a bunch of incompetents and I would do the job assigned to me. The Malfoy family vault was drained of cash and I was left only with my inheritance from the Black family. Thankfully, the Dark Lord left the Manor shortly after to occupy the Minister of Magics house. That’s the story, Granger, and I deserve nothing less than my current predicament.”

“Oh, Draco, I’m...” She commenced.

“Don’t! Do not say it. I didn’t tell you for your sympathy, I told you because you asked.”

His chest felt like it was about to explode as he thought of his mother. He quickly rose and rushed to the door, leaning on the doorframe as he heaved for breath. Turning, he released her from her bindings and ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time. Crashing through his door he slammed it behind him, locking and silencing the room before falling to his knees, huge sobs wracking his body.

He vaguely noticed a banging on the door behind him. Her muffled voice cried out.

“Draco! Draco, let me in!” Hermione smacked her open palm against the door.

“Go away Granger, I don’t want to hear it!” He roared and silenced the incessant banging.

Hermione slid down his door to sit and wait. Her body was worn out and her mind in overdrive over what she’d been told. Had Harry cast a spell to make her forget? The prospect that she may have been betrayed by the one person she trusted the most hurt so badly she wanted to curl up in a ball. Not only that, she realised her parents had never spoken of the wizarding world. Betrayal, it seemed, prevailed in her life. If he could be trusted, the only person who had told her the truth was Draco Malfoy, and wasn’t that a funny thing?


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A recap of the end of Chapter 6...
> 
> Bile threatened to rise into his throat, and he choked it back. Gulping, he avoided Hermione’s eyes, which he was sure would be filled with pity.
> 
> “From that day I was informed that Malfoy Industries would be run by a bunch of incompetents and I would do the job assigned to me. The Malfoy family vault was drained of cash and I was left only with my inheritance from the Black family. Thankfully, the Dark Lord left the Manor shortly after to occupy the Minister of Magics house. That’s the story, Granger, and I deserve nothing less than my current predicament.”
> 
> “Oh, Draco, I’m...” She commenced.
> 
> “Don’t! Do not say it. I didn’t tell you for your sympathy, I told you because you asked.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always huge thanks my awesome beta @Riverrr for her hard work on this story, and the amazing @Mimifreed and @samadiw for the beautiful artwork. Also to everyone who has commented or contacted me over on Tumblr, you are all awesome, please don't stop letting me know what you think.

_He who does not travel, does not know the value of men_

\- Moorish Proverb

**Bunbury WA – The Safehouse**

Sloping down for dinner, Hermione thought it unlikely that Malfoy would be joining her. He had not heard him leave his room for several hours and she’d given up asking him to let her in. She had not dressed for dinner, instead, slipping on a pretty cotton sundress and flip flops.

Tristan ushered her out onto the patio by the pool and she was about to sit when she saw Malfoy returning from a run. It was odd to see him running the perimeter of the grounds as he usually ran on the treadmill in the gym. He wore a red pair of sports shorts which rose above mid-thigh on his tanned and coltish but muscular legs, the upper half of his body was bare and she could see the perspiration dripping from his chest, even from a distance. His hair was soaked in sweat and, as he drew to a stop, he placed his hands on his knees, gasping for breath.

Standing, he shook his head and brushed his hair back from his brow with his hand before heading for the showers by the pool house.

Hermione bit her lip. Seeing him like this was like a wet dream come true. Sure, she knew he was hot, there had never been any doubt about that, but now there was something else that lured her closer, an ingrained brokenness that lay beneath the surface and the chance that he could still be redeemed. He hadn’t killed her yet and everything he had done was because he had been forced, in fear of his own life. She wasn’t at the point of forgiveness, far from it, but he’d explained a lot and she understood. Alright, there were ways out of his profession; he could’ve made the decision to run before taking anyone’s life; and he had killed but there was a hint in his eyes when he spoke to her earlier, a hint of the scared young man she once knew. If that boy was still there, under all the layers he’d built up around him, then could he not be drawn back into the light?

Her parents, avid church goers, would say that it is not for others to judge, that a man’s sins were for God alone to determine. She didn’t believe in God, but there was something in that and she wondered if anyone’s good deeds could possibly surpass their wrong doings. That was if they chose to change.

She looked around her and began to make her way to the showers, an outdoor wet room of sorts, with wooden planks on the floor and with little protection from anyone actively undertaking voyeurism, which she supposed was what she was doing right now.

Soaping up his hair, his powerful arms were stretched taut above his head, and she admired the ropes of corded muscle along his scarred rib cage, her gaze drifting over firm skin to a trim waist. Other scars marred his body but didn’t detract from his magnificence.

Nibbling her lip, she let her eyes stray down to his arse. Draco Malfoy’s arse was a sight to behold, tight and high with tanned skin shimmering as rivulets of water ran over it in the evening light, giving way to powerful thighs she was sure could crack a walnut if the need ever arose. She had an urge to drift towards him and take each globe in her hands, to caress his hips and back, to turn him to her and…

A board squeaked under her feet.

“Granger, you’re being less than quiet.”

He turned to her give her a full-frontal view. She felt so hot, she thought she might pass out. He seemed as unashamed of his nakedness as the first day she watched him swimming in the pool, except this time she had a perfect view of his manhood; long, thick and nestled in amongst a tidy smattering of pale blonde hair.

Draco knew she was there from the first. It was the reason he’d used the outside shower, to see if the once uptight and swotty student from Hogwarts had really acted out of character the day they shagged or if she had a hidden sensual side. He had to admit, the way she’d licked the wine from his neck earlier that day was possibly one of the hottest things he’d ever experienced, that feeling swiftly lost as she dumped orange juice on him and pushed him in the pool. His cock twitched under her gaze.

“Feeling dirty enough to join me, Granger?” He smirked.

The timbre of his voice caused a shudder to rush right through her, merging at her core. She knew she was blushing, and she hated the way her feelings were always so clear on her face.

“N-no thanks, I showered earlier.” She wanted to turn away, but she was mesmerised by him.

“Shame,” he said, taking the soap and beginning to wash his half-hard cock languidly, “I would love to see what you have hiding under that sweet little dress. I can see those tight nipples of yours are hard already,” he palmed his dick, his tongue darting out to swipe droplets of water from his lower lip, “and I bet you’re sopping.”

Her pussy clenched with want. Panicking, she found the will to rush away before, Godrick forbid, she took some initiative and stripped off to join him. She heard him laughing as she headed back to the table for dinner.

She felt too hot, the evening sun was cooling down, but the cotton of her sundress seemed to brush against every part of her, and the thong she wore underneath caused some friction but not enough to sate her arousal. Confessing to herself that she wanted the man who’d stolen her away from her daughter with a view to kill her but had then shown himself to be more multi-faceted than she’d ever expected, was something she battled with. If she crossed that line; if they crossed that line; then she felt like she might fall down a rabbit hole of epic proportions and never be able to justify it to herself. She felt like she was perched on the precipice between the light and dark side. A sad story should not be enough to sway her so easily. 

He passed her a few moments later, with a towel wrapped around his waist, entering the house and returning almost ten minutes later with damp, slicked back hair, wearing a pair of smart black trousers and a white shirt, with at least three buttons open at the collar and the sleeves rolled up. He smelled divine as he passed her, his aftershave billowing a wave of manly scent behind him as he moved to sit in his usual seat.

Draco knew he’d flustered her as she wouldn’t meet his eye. She sat sipping her wine with her long, bronzed legs crossed, leaning back in her seat. For all intents and purposes, she looked relaxed, but he could tell her mind was working over what had happened less than half an hour ago.

Tristan came out with the first course, deep fried salt and pepper Calamari, placing the dishes before the two and refilling their wine glasses.

“Miss Granger, for the main course, we have premium fillet steak, an alternative of Tasmanian Scallop Pie or vegetarian skewers with parsley and cashew pesto, served with couscous. We’re aware not everyone likes steak, so chef is offering a choice this evening.”

Hermione wanted to laugh. Since when did being in this house leave her with any choice? Still, Tristan was doing his job, so she chose the vegetable skewers. At home she ate healthily as often as possible to make up for her secret chocolate addiction.

She tucked into the squid starter with vigour, it had been a long and emotional day and she was starving. If she thought she could get away with it, she would have picked the dish up and poured it into her mouth. Instead she was sitting with pureblood extraordinaire and posh as fuck, Draco Malfoy, who knew exactly which cutlery to use for his appetizer and had elegantly draped his napkin over his lap. She hadn’t even noticed the napkin in her haste to scarf down her food.

When she looked up, he was chewing with a smirk. Damn him for looking so attractive in whatever he did.

Neither spoke as they waited for the main course to be served. Her vegetable skewers arrived, and she cursed her choice instantly once she picked up her knife and fork. How the hell was she supposed to eat them in a polite manner. She let out a small harrumph and poked a piece of courgette with her knife.

Barely noticing Draco stand and move to her side, she poked it once more. Dropping to his knees, he gently lifted the skewer from her plate, removing a cherry tomato from the end, holding it up to her lips.

His eyes darkened as she opened her lips and accepted the tomato, licking away the juice from her lower lip.

Draco wanted to devour her, to remove the food and tangle his tongue with hers but he’d promised he wouldn’t touch her unless she asked him to. He was many things, but he would never force her. He took a piece of courgette and fed it to her once more. This time her mouth sucked some sauce from his fingers, and he closed his eyes, biting his lips together at the sensation. If only she knew how much she turned him on.

Once she swallowed, he moved his mouth towards hers and, stopping a hairs breadth away, his eyes on her lips, he spoke.

“No need to stand on ceremony here, Granger, just pull it off the skewer with your fingers.” With that, he stood and returned to his seat.

To say Hermione was in a tizzy was an understatement. She truly thought he was about to kiss her after his little erotically charged show of feeding her. The sensation of his fingers on her lips reminded her of the time all those years ago when they’d come together like they belonged.

_“Shit, Granger, I want you, but I need you to say it, say you want this."_

Her body was desperate to experience that once more, but her head told her it would be a stupid thing to do. Once she made that move, all would be lost, including her self-respect.

Dessert was served a little later, a French chocolate ganache tart and Hermione’s eyes lit up. She missed her secret chocolate consumption and her little partner in crime who would never tell her parents of their shenanigans. She smiled at the thought of the wonder that was Ayla, the child who was her life. She missed her so much.

Her eyes rolled back at the first taste of the tart. “Holy shit, this is to die for.”

Draco eyes were filled with mirth when she dared look up under her lashes, realising her faux pas.

“If only it were so easy,” he mumbled sardonically.

She pushed her dish away and stood, feeling like a fool. Rushing away, she barely made it to the door to the house when her way was blocked by his arm against the doorframe. He was close enough for her to feel the fine hairs of his arm tickling her shoulder and when she looked up, his eyes were on hers, steadily retaining eye contact. He inhaled deeply; his pupils dilated to the point only a bare rim of light grey circled black. She could feel her pulse racing in her throat and every nerve in her body was tingling.

Draco thought she was delectable when she was rattled, her eyelashes flickered as she gulped visibly, and her blushes spread deliciously across her chest. Cocking his head, his breath hot and millimetres from her ear, he said, “They say chocolate is better than sex, Granger,” he paused for effect and noticed her breath hitch, “Is it? Is it better than sex?”

Swallowing thickly, she opened her mouth and then closed it, slowly shaking her head. No. Hermione knew it wasn’t, especially sex with him. He was teasing her like a cat with a mouse’s tail trapped under its paw, waiting for her to just say those words, then he would pounce and devour her.

“As I thought.”

He pushed back and allowed Hermione to enter the house on shaky legs.

The death he offered, it seemed, would come in a series of little ones, and it was clear he was just waiting for her agreement. 

…………………………………………………………………………………………….

**Cape Town, South Africa**

Harry Potter knew one thing would keep him alive, just one. He should avoid places that would be searched immediately. Most people on the run might seek out the remotest places on earth, or places with a sparse population.

He, however, had chosen to hide in plain sight. In cities filled with so many people, another body would hardly be noticed.

During his years on the run, he had spent a few months in muggle Tokyo, Sao Paulo, Mexico City, Mumbai, Delhi, and so many more he could hardly keep count. If it weren’t for an intricate log he kept of Death Eater sightings and his positions, he probably would have forgotten over the years. Each place he moved on to had only needed that one criterion, that it was big enough to get lost in and had access to the internet.

He used burner phones and an anonymous email giving bare information to other Order members - he was alive and safe.

Before his death, Alberforth Dumbledore had come up with a variation on the Marauders map, once that showed every magical person within a two-mile radius. That bit of miraculous magic had saved his life on countless occasions. 

There was one person to thank for the elaborate plan for Order members to hide in non-magical places, his best friend, Hermione. She had told everyone how to hide in muggle society, how they should change their look, never to use their wands in case a magical signature was traced, about muggle money. She spent months pooling funds to transfer into muggle cash, creating passports and fake identities and shrinking them down to fit inside a small cavity in their portkeys. They had been her idea too.

The night she came to him with the idea, they had been weathering a storm in their tent while on the run. Hermione never said outright that she believed they could lose but said instead they needed to be prepared for every eventuality. Harry had agreed immediately and hugged her. There was one thing you could guarantee with Hermione, she put others first, from house elves to friends or even some enemies and with a brain like hers she would have made a fine master criminal. In Harry’s opinion, she had saved the lives of many and he had left her alone and vulnerable.

It worried him that she might never know how many she had saved from their doom.

Before sending her to her parents by portkey during the final battle, he had cast a forgetfulness spell, hoping that at least one of them might go on to live a happy life, but with the tenacity Voldemort had shown and the scouting units he’d barely escaped on occasion, he knew she was possibly more in danger than him.

He felt guilty everyday but knew it wouldn’t help her if he showed up at her parent’s house to remove the spell and warn her. It would just lead danger to their door and likely get them all killed. So, Harry wrote her emails and then deleted them, never sending them. He told her everything he would have told her if she was there.

Arriving in Cape Town, South Africa, he left the container ship he’d travelled on as a stowaway by using his invisibility cloak and headed to find an agent to procure a flat in the city. He needed a good night’s sleep in a real bed and he just wanted to watch TV until his eyes fell out. The boredom of hiding in the dark on a freighter from Salvador, Brazil, for seventeen days was enough to make him want to drink himself silly, but he still stuck by Moody’s old mantra, constant vigilance - this meant constant sobriety.

Finding an internet café, he logged into his email and clicked on an untitled message.

“I love you; I miss you, I’m safe.” The message said.

Leaning his head on the back of the seat, he blinked back tears. Ginny.

He replied. “I love you more than words can say, be happy, I’m safe.”

He wrote the same to Hermione and then used the backspace button to remove every letter from the email he’d never send, inhaling a shaky breath. “Godrick be with you, wherever you are.” He murmured.

Later as he settled down to eat a dinner of the best Pizza he had possibly ever had, he vaguely watched a film on an English Language station and wondered if it would ever end, or if he would be running until his dying day. He missed his friends and if they were together, he was sure they could figure out a plan. But they weren’t together, and he wondered if he would ever see them again.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

**Bunbury WA - The Wilkins House**

“Nana, when will mummy be home?” Ayla asked for what felt to Monika like the millionth time.

“She’ll be home soon, darling, we’re doing everything we can to find her,” Monika hugged the little girl close.

“When the man brings her back? The man with the blonde hair like mine?” Ayla said.

Monika frowned. Ayla hadn’t mentioned blonde hair like hers when previously asked about the man. She got down on her knees and held the little girl’s upper arms gently, so she faced her. “The man had blonde hair like yours, did he? Do you remember anything else about him?”

“He was a magician, he could disappear, Nana. He thought I couldn’t see him when he hid, but I could see him hiding behind the shiny wall, it glittered like the top of the pool in the sun. He was very tall, and he had grey eyes, just like mine.” She wrinkled her nose, “I saw him twice and he carried a small stick in his hand, isn’t that funny, Nana?”

Monika realised Ayla was describing a wand. This proved her suspicions of a magical abduction.

“Yes, what a funny thing to have. Okay, sweetheart, well, you run along and play with your toys, Nana just needs to make a phone call and then I’ll make lunch.”

Monika picked up the phone and dialled in the number of the local police, though before it rang, she placed it back down in its cradle. There was nothing the police could do in this situation. The magical world was separate, it was unknown to most of mugglekind and the man could have taken her anywhere.

A niggling thought entered her mind. Blonde hair and grey eyes, where had she seen a man with hair as white blonde as Ayla’s and those eyes? She racked her brains as she picked up the phone to call Wendell at the surgery.

While the phone rang, she began to search through the phone book, looking for witches’ covens, coming back instantly with some magical groups and several Indigenous Tribes, offering spiritual healing. It could be a start. Someone must know something. If she took Hermione’s broken wand and necklace, perhaps there might just be a chance of finding someone from the magical world, they might recognise Hermione’s magical signature and offer to help.

“Quickly, darling, Ayla just gave me a description of the man who took Hermione, do you remember that man at the bookshop when we went, err, you know where before Hermione started school? He had a son of around Hermione’s age and they both had striking blonde hair and grey eyes. You commented on how imposing he looked, and I said he didn’t look like a kind man, do you remember?”

“Yes, the man Mr Weasley had a bit of a to do with? Hermione later said the boy was a bully at school and called her nasty names. Dray? No, Drogo Malkins? Malfoy? I’m sure it was Malfoy, the father was Lucius, I remember thinking it sounded like Lucifer at the time.”

“Yes! Yes, I think it was either the wiz…” she quickly corrected herself in case Ayla was listening, “the man or the boy who may have taken her, they fit Ayla’s description. Wendell, we need to try to get in contact with someone in magical England who might know something.” She kept her voice low.

“Darling, we’ve been through this a hundred times, there is no way, and how could we trust anyone when we don’t know what’s happening over there? It’s too risky.”

“We have to try Wendell. I can’t sit here waiting and doing nothing while my daughters out there. It’s been days and the trail has gone cold. Wherever he’s taken her, it’s not somewhere we can easily follow.”

Wendell sighed. “Okay, love, but just be careful and whatever you do, don’t bring Ayla with you, I want her home and safe. We’ll talk about it more when I get home.”

Monika sighed as she put down the phone to her husband. Another six hours might make the difference. She could make a start now on the first entry in the phone book. She ripped out the page and rushed to usher Ayla into the car. What Wendell didn’t know, wouldn’t hurt him.

  
  


  
  



	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An excerpt from Chapter 7: “They say chocolate is better than sex, Granger,” he paused for effect and noticed her breath hitch, “Is it? Is it better than sex?”  
> Swallowing thickly, she opened her mouth and then closed it, slowly shaking her head. No. Hermione knew it wasn’t, especially sex with him. He was teasing her like a cat with a mouse’s tail trapped under its paw, waiting for her to just say those words, then he would pounce and devour her.  
> “As I thought.”  
> He pushed back and allowed Hermione to enter the house on shaky legs.  
> The death he offered, it seemed, would come in a series of little ones, and it was clear he was just waiting for her agreement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Please note I have changed the rating from mature to explicit**  
> Thanks my awesome beta @Riverrr for her hard work on this story, and the amazing @Mimifreed and @samadiw for the beautiful artwork. Also to everyone who has commented or contacted me over on Tumblr, you are all awesome, please don't stop letting me know what you think.

_Speak the truth, but leave immediately after_

\- Slovenian Proverb

**Bunbury WA – The Safehouse**

Hermione decided she might sunbathe with a good book after breakfast the following morning, it was a stunning day and she wandered the grounds peering at the beautiful Rainbow Lorikeet pair who had settled in the tree’s amongst other native birds she couldn’t quite place. Hermione knew something about the birds as her father had told her about them. They mated for life and she smiled as she peered up at the vibrant coloured birds as they nuzzled each other’s feathers, chattering and grooming one another.The birds cheered her a little as Draco had been subdued and barely spoke at breakfast, providing none of his flirtatious and provocative behaviour of the previous day. She’d eyed him over the fruit platters and croissants and he’d looked tired and melancholy.

She’d been on the verge of asking him what was wrong when he finished his breakfast, drained his coffee cup and left the table.

The security guards chatted in the distance, at ease now they thought she would make no more escape attempts, while she realised that she didn’t want to. She would give anything to see Ayla again, but now it seemed Draco was unlikely to kill her, she found herself enjoying some quiet, relaxing time to herself.

Settling by the pool on a sun lounger she removed her robe, revealing her white string bikini and began slavering on sun cream. She lay back and opened her book. This morning she’d chosen a muggle title from the small library, The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde by Robert Louis Stevenson, and found herself engrossed in the horrific goings-on, to the point she barely noticed a shadow cross over her legs.

Draco cleared his voice, “Granger.”

She let the book drop onto her lap and swiftly lost her page. She pouted, covering her eyes as she peered up at him.

He cocked his head, suckling on his lower lip as his eyes perused the bronzed planes of her body.

“Can I help you? Have you deemed me a suitable person to converse with now? Or should I return to the library to find a book on Legilimency? Perhaps then I may find a way to read your mind.” She was snippy with him as he’d annoyed her by his silence before.

Draco ran his fingers through his hair and sat down on the edge of the recliner beside hers.

Hermione waited for an answer with a raised eyebrow and could see Draco’s skin beginning to burn. He may have developed a tan, but his unusually pale skin was still likely to be susceptible to burning.

“Oh, for goodness sake, have you used any protection this morning?”

Draco stared at her with wide eyes. He had no idea what she meant. Was she suggesting he’d done something sexual with someone?

“You’re burning, Malfoy. Don’t you know two in three Australians will be diagnosed with skin cancer by the time they are seventy?” She tutted.

Hermione proceeded to jump up and squirt a handful of lotion into her hand, and without any warning, she slapped the cold cream onto his shoulders.

“Fuck, Granger, that’s freezing!” He lamented, shuddering under her ministrations.

“Don’t be a baby. I’ve never known anyone with the ability to do magic who leaves themselves to burn in the sun like this. There’s absolutely no excuse,” she exclaimed, biting her lip as she moved her hands over the muscles of his upper back.

“I’m quite capable of casting a protective charm, I just forgot. I’ve got a lot on my mind. Please, do stop berating me like a child.”

He turned and caught hold of her wrist. Seeing her wince, he let it go instantly. 

Hermione’s hands were covered in lotion and for some reason, she felt for a moment like she might cry. She was only trying to help but she realised she’d all but assaulted him with the cream and touched him without his permission.

“Perhaps I should have stipulated that if you chose to touch me of your own volition it is fair game for me to do the same?” He said with a gravelled tone to his voice.

“N-no, that’s not what it was, I-I wasn’t…it wasn’t like that,” she pleaded for him to understand.

He stood, taking hold of her hands, and urging her to finish applying the lotion to his chest. Hermione thought she might spontaneously combust when her hands met pure muscle, chiselled and toned to perfection, especially when he seemed to be urging her to willingly run her fingers over his defined chest and abs.

Draco’s breath came quicker as her nimble fingers across his happy trail, her thumbs brushing across his hips and over his Adonis belt. He shivered, feeling his cock harden in his shorts.

“Fuck, Granger, you’re killing me here,” he closed his eyes before she noticed his eyes roll back. He could just reach out and pull the strings on her bikini, he could lay her bare to him so easily. Morgana’s tits, he wanted to so badly.

Hermione seemed to be lost in a world of her own as she traced and caressed all parts of his upper body, her eyes were hooded, and her lashes fluttered. He knew he was affecting her as much as she was him.

Moving unexpectedly, he turned and removed his shorts, heading for safety before he threw caution to the wind and ravished her.

Hermione gasped as he dove into the pool, his movements liquid, causing very little splash as his body met the water.

She frowned at the loss of her plaything and sat down on her lounger. It was her fault. She’d allowed more to happen at that moment than in the whole time she’d been there and now she was hot and bothered. Well, two can play at that game, she thought.

Moving to the edge of the pool, she waited until he surfaced and pulled the strings on her bikini top, revealing her breasts to him as he stared at her open-mouthed. Diving into the pool in a much less graceful way, she swam under the water until she could no longer hold her breath, ogling his lower parts for a moment and surfacing a few feet from him.

Standing on her tiptoes on the bottom of the pool, she smoothed her sodden curls back over her head, the movement causing her breasts to rise and bob on the water, giving Draco an eyeful.

Wading closer to him, she stopped inches away from his body and said, “You know, you’re not the only one who can tease around here, Malfoy and if that’s what you want, that’s what you’ll get.”

She swam to the steps and reached for a towel, smoothing it languidly across her body, before moving back to the sun lounger and dropping the towel to the floor beside her. She proceeded to sunbathe almost naked but for her bikini bottoms. She noticed he was stock still with shock in the same place she’d left him, so she untied the sides of her bottoms, leaving only her mons covered.

“It wouldn’t do to have tan lines, would it, Malfoy?” She called over as she placed her sunglasses over her eyes, smirking.

Draco swam to her side of the pool, heaved himself up with his impressive upper body strength and moved to her side. She shrieked as droplets of cold water rained over her and she came face to face with Draco’s raging erection. He leaned down to pick up the towel she’d used and whispered in her ear. Hermione’s nipples tightened to hardened peaks as she felt his breath on her sensitive neck.

“You may think you’ve won, princess, but the game is still afoot, and I never lose.”

With that, he strode off into the house.

Hermione licked her lips and lay back on the lounger with a groan, she didn’t know about her being the death of him, it was more likely in reverse.

She was horny. Being privy to such a stunning dick had her wetter than she had any right to be, so she tied her bottoms and wrapped a towel around her, heading back to the house and upstairs to her room.

She paused as she heard a grunting moan come from Malfoys room. His door was wide open, and she contemplated peering inside. She already knew what he was doing, but then she heard him say something unexpected.

“Fuck, Granger, I will shag you into the ground if you just say the word.” Then he growled, sending arousal racing through her body and a swooping sensation in her lower stomach.

She shouldn’t look, she really shouldn’t, but she wanted to. He was getting himself off to some prefabricated visual of her and she couldn’t help but take those few tentative steps to his door.

Hermione was unprepared to see him sitting in a red velvet chaise lounge near the end of his bed, facing her.

“As usual, you’re about as quiet as a herd of Centaurs, Granger.” He choked out as he continued to pump his dick, laying his head on the back of the sofa for a moment as a wave of pleasure washed over him.

Her pussy pulsed with need and her hands were shaking as she held on to the towel wrapped tightly around her boobs. The tightness of the cotton felt amazing against her naked nipples and she wanted to be filled so badly by him it almost hurt. The urge to rub against something, anything, was strong as her clit pulsed, but she stopped herself in time before her hand drifted towards her crotch to ease the pressure.

She licked her lips as she watched him continue his ministrations, his free hand cupping his balls. She wanted to be the one to do that, she wanted to get down on her knees and swallow him whole. It was all too much.

“Drop the towel,” he begged. Draco couldn’t think of anything other than the fact he wanted to see her, he wanted to grab her and sink his cock balls deep into her and explode in her creamy depths while her cunt milked him and she screamed his name.

She wouldn’t touch him but perhaps allowing him a little something wasn’t so bad. After all, she’d already given him a show, down by the pool. She hesitated as he let out a whimper.

“Please, Granger, just let me see you this once,” he pleaded.

Exhilaration and adrenalin overtook common sense and she released her hand, allowing the towel to drop and pool at her feet.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking gorgeous, don’t you know what you do to me, Granger? I-I want you all the time…” he gasped, his black eyes raking her body, “You've marked me indelibly, Granger and I need this to end, I can't take it anymore, I see you everywhere, in my dreams, my peripheral vision, I see you in the shadows, feel you inside my fuckin heart, I need you." 

If Hermione was shocked, she didn’t say anything. Men often said things they didn’t mean when they were aroused, it didn’t mean much.

A flesh memory came to the forefront of Hermione’s mind, of him telling her to touch herself. 

_"Touch yourself, let me watch you bring yourself off on my cock."_

She knew what he wanted and gently removed the ties at the sides of her bikini bottoms. In for a sickle, in for a galleon, she thought. She watched his eyes follow her every move, his hand speeding up as she reached to cup her breasts with both hands, squeezing her aching nipples with her thumb and forefingers. She was just waiting for him to say it.

“Granger, if you d-don’t touch yourself, I’m liable to lose my mind.” He stuttered, his chest heaving as his hand moved up and down over his large, throbbing dick.

She nibbled her lower lip and moved her hand to caress the fine strip of dark, downy hair of her mons, sliding first one finger, then a second, over her clit. It felt so good she thought it might only take another few rotations for her to come.

“Please come here, come and sit beside me, I promise I won’t touch you,” he appealed.

In a lust fogged haze, Hermione’s legs took on a mind of their own and begin walking towards him. His pheromones were heavy in the air as she reached him and it would just take one move, just one swing of her leg and she could sink down onto his cock and relieve the damnable itch she needed scratching, the itch only this man seemed to create in her. She wondered what witch would feel so hot for a wizard who was a killer, someone who was sick in the head. Still, those thoughts didn’t stop her, and she settled at the other end of the sofa, her legs wide apart as she faced him. She bit her lip and trailed her fingers down through the valley of her breasts and across her taut stomach until she met her pussy lips once more.

Draco watched her intently. This was a bloody dream come true to have her here like this, so willing to allow him to watch her as she made herself come. He had to pause his strokes for a moment as he took in her arousal, her musky, honeyed scent pulsating through his senses in waves, it was overwhelming.

Their eyes met and she still hadn’t asked him to touch her as her fingers slid over her clit, circling the tiny bud and letting out the most alluring moan. He began sliding his hand up and down his cock once more, never taking his eyes off her face until she pushed two fingers inside herself and arched at the sensation, her free hand rubbing her clit.

“Don’t stop, Granger, please don’t stop, Salazar, you’re so gorgeous, so fucking hot like this.”

The room was charged with unreleased sexual tension, a current of inherent need pulsing through them both. 

“Draco, I’m gonna…Oh, Oh, my god!” She threw her head back as she came on her fingers, back arched, blood roaring through her ears as her vision whited out.

Through the sound of her rapid heartbeat racing through her ears, she heard Malfoy’s rhythmic grunts stutter.

“F-fuck, Granger, I’m coming!”

Hermione’s pussy pulsed several times more with smaller orgasms as he came, ropes of white semen shooting across his abdomen.

As her breathing slowed, Hermione realised this was probably the stupidest things she’d ever done and she stood on shaky legs, rushing to the door.

“I-I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…”

She ran to her room and slammed the door, locking it behind her.

Moments later she heard his voice.

“Granger? Granger, open the door.”

She didn’t answer him, she just sat on her bed, hugging herself. She thought there was something wrong with her. What person engages in such acts with someone who took them away from their life, their child? She felt so confused. She wanted him, but what was the cost of that? He was a killer and she was a schoolteacher with a fucked-up memory of two lives lived, neither seeming to merge as one whole person. By allowing more between her and Draco she was damning herself to a half-life, one where he could never truly be with her, one where he was cursed to live under the reign of a psychoneurotic tyrant. This could never be.

After a while, he said, “I don’t regret it, I don’t regret you, I’ve always wanted you, can’t you see that?”

Her eyes must have closed after her tears began to fall because it was dark when she woke to further knocking on the door.

“Go away, Malfoy,” she called out hoarsely.

“Indeed. I think your wish has been fulfilled. I need to go away for a few days. I’ll return on Saturday.”

Saturday. She wondered when that might be as she had lost all sense of time since she’d been sequestered away in this place.

Now he was leaving, perhaps she might stand more of a chance of planning her escape.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

**Wizarding England – Present day**

Draco returned to wizarding England via portkey, donning his black suit, his wand holstered, his hair perfectly coiffured.

Ushered before the Dark Lord as he held court in the exquisite building owned by the previous Minister for Magic.

“Ah, young Malfoy has returned from his latest quest looking like he has been on a jolly holiday. Do tell us, did you partake in ices and donkey rides?” Voldemort clapped his hands and the two dozen witches and wizards milling around the room in sumptuous attire like they were worshipping a king, paused and moved to stand in lines around the edge of the room, all tittering at the Dark Lord’s quip.

“Yes, my Lord, the suntan was an unfortunate side effect of my search in a county filled with disgusting muggles. I had little choice but to undertake my tracking in the daytime when they carried out their revolting activities.”

Voldemort hummed his approval at Draco’s words.

“Do tell us how the hunt for the Granger mudblood went, I’ve been so looking forward to reintroducing her to my blade, she screams so delightfully.” Draco’s Aunt Bellatrix asked as she circled him, leaning in to place a kiss upon his cheek.

He wanted to push her away, he could smell the evil dripping from her like perspiration and she sickened him.

“Do leave your nephew alone, Bella, he is here to report to me, not for a family reunion. You would do well to remember what happened to your sister and her husband when they did not obey me,” the Dark Lord laughed humourlessly, flicking his hand for her to remove herself as if she was a mere annoying fly.

Bellatrix bowed with a whimper and moved back towards the crowd.

“Do answer her question, regardless of her insolence.”

“The lead was a false trail, my Lord,” Draco bowed and kissed the ring of the Dark Lord, fuming as he recognized one of his family heirlooms adorning his finger, a large emerald containing a tiny snake in a gold setting, “The woman was not the Granger girl, she was a muggle who had some similarities but I made sure it was not her. As she was a muggle, I took the liberty of ridding us of the scum, to ensure our time is not wasted again by someone thinking they had seen the mudblood.”

“Good. Good,” Voldemort replied in a sing-song voice, “I take it you will be prostrating yourself on the floor before me as is usually required for me to ensure you are telling the truth. I would hate to have another episode like the one with the Weasley traitor, the dragon tamer, it upset my countenance for weeks until I’d killed every red-headed muggle that could be found in his stead.”

“Of course, my Lord.” This was the part Draco dreaded every time.

He sank to his knees and placed his arms out either side. This was a method Voldemort had begun to use after the war, and Draco thought he just liked having his subjects on his knees before him, the fucking prick.

Waiting for the painful intrusion, Draco secured Granger so deep in his mind that Voldemort would only find what he wanted to find, a fabricated memory of a woman who looked like Granger.

He was saved by Wormtail scuttling into the room.

“My Lord, My Lord!” He shouted breathlessly.

“Wormtail! How dare you interrupt me!” Voldemort cast a tripping curse and the wizard fell, sliding across the parquet floor.

“My Lord, I must tell you immediately, Harry Potter has been seen! He has been spotted by Unit B in South Africa and they are close to apprehending him,” Wormtail whimpered.

Draco got to his feet.

“My Lord, please may I speak?” Draco knew he risked Voldemort’s wrath by speaking at all, but he had a chance to track down Potter and he wasn’t going to let it slip through his fingers. It was at that moment he finally decided to put an end to anyone who might harm Granger and the child, and although he’d had little time to form a plan, finding a way to Potter seemed as good a start as any.

Voldemort rolled his eyes. “What is it about my subjects which makes them speak out like imbeciles?” He asked nobody in particular, “Yes, young Malfoy, I will let your impertinence go, just this once.”

“My Lord, you know the units are good at tracking, but returning Potter to you is my job, is it not? I stand a better chance of returning him to you using my methods and not losing him or killing him in the process. You are aware of my kill record, are you not?”

“Much as I hate to agree with you, you are correct, you have only one loss, the units tend to rush in with all wands blazing. They may kill him in error and I alone must have the pleasure of killing Potter.” He agreed, nodding thoughtfully. “Return Potter to me, Malfoy, you will do this, or it will be the last time I allow you an error. Return him and do not come back here until it is done. If you do this, you will usurp your Aunt as my right hand.”

Bellatrix let out a screech and raised her wand at Draco. Voldemort gagged her with wandless magic and her wand flew into his hand.

“Tut, tut, Bella, you may rest easy, you may still warm my bed,” Voldemort chuckled.

Draco breathed a sigh of relief as he walked back down the steps of the grand house. Luck was truly on his side that day, as if he’d taken a draft of Felix Felicis. As he readied himself to take the portkey back to Australia, he just wished there was a way to scrub his mind clean of the information that his aunt and the Dark Lord were fucking.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the last chapter we left Draco in Britain, barely escaping Voldemort's invasion of his mind. I know many of you were most ill from the thought of Voldemort and Bellatrix and I feel extremely evil for subjecting you to that thought, lol.   
> Draco seeks some help for a plan he has brewing in this chapter and he'll need help. I remains to see who he'll turn to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks my awesome beta @Riverrr for her hard work on this story, and the amazing @Mimifreed and @samadiw for the beautiful artwork. Also to everyone who has commented or contacted me over on Tumblr, you are all awesome, please don't stop letting me know what you think.
> 
> There is also some amazing artwork at the end of this chapter, I just love it so much, it's perfect for this chapter! Thank you so much @samadiw!!! <3 <3 <3

_A willing helper does not wait until he is asked_

\- Danish Proverb

**Bunbury WA – Present day**

Pulling the car up outside a small downtown shop called Magical Illusions, Monika Wilkins lifted a sleepy Ayla out of her car seat and carried her to the door, pushing it open with her hip and causing the bell above the door to ring. The store was decorated with a plethora of hanging crystals which she dodged as she entered. The inside light was dim, and the shop smelled of incense. Nobody was at the counter as she made her way towards some shelves containing various items; crystal balls, decks of tarot cards, more stones or crystals and various clothing hung on racks around the store.

“Can I help you?” A male voice came out of the darkness at the back of the shop.

Her breath catching, Monika peered towards a set of purple shimmering curtains. “I, um, I was looking for some help to find my daughter,” she said croakily.

“Ah, a fellow Brit,” the man’s smooth accent drawled, “well, nobody’s been in here all day. It’s too hot, they’ve all gone to the beach,” the voice replied.

“Oh no, not in that way, my daughters been kidnapped, I’m looking for someone to help me, to look in a crystal ball, or-or something like that?” Monika rambled.

The voice chuckled and an elderly man appeared from behind the curtains, hobbling towards them on a gnarled walking stick. Clean shaven, with cropped hair and a kindly face, he wore a purple waistcoat, white shirt and multicoloured trousers.

“Madam, this is a shop which supplies magical equipment for those who practice the magical arts, I can’t help you, I don’t possess that type of gift,” he said with a wan smile.

A tear trailed down Monika’s cheek and Ayla shifted in her arms, wanting to get down. She placed the little girl on her feet and Ayla ran to the man.

“It was a magic man who stole my mummy,” she said with a pout to the man, who seemed taken aback by her candour.

“Is that so, little one?” He shuffled to rest on a wooden stool next to a display of glittering amethyst quartz geodes.

“Please, do you know anyone who can help us? I know it sounds crazy, but we believe the person who took her is human, but he possesses—um, powers,” Monika blushed. She knew she sounded like she wasn’t quite the full ticket but ignored it as she was desperate for someone to help them.

“There may be someone,” he ruffled Ayla’s curls, “I have a friend who runs a group here once a month, Madame Cassandra, she can do wonderful things, inexplicable things. Up until now, she’s only helped people find lost items, like car keys or lost wills. I don’t know of anyone else, I’m sorry.”

“Where can we find Madame Cassandra?” Monika asked hopefully.

“What day is it?”

“Wednesday,” Monika replied.

“Then she should be at the old folk’s home, Ocean Moon, it’s on the beach road. She reads palms there and spends time chatting to the old people.”

“Thank you…”

“Oh, I’m Jack. Jack Oaks.” He smiled.

“Monika. Monika Wilkins,” she held out her hand to shake the man’s politely. “Oh, and I must buy something for your trouble,” Monika scrabbled for her purse.

“No, absolutely not, we tick over here, and I’m not in the habit of asking for money to help distraught mothers find their children.” Jack stood and made his way to a display of charms, perusing them and picking out two matching polish fire agate pendants shaped like stars. “For your protection, to shield you both against the risk of communication with spiritual plains. I’m sorry I can’t do more.”

“Oh, thank you, thank you so much,” Monika gushed, her eyes filling with tears once more, “Ayla, what do you say to the nice man?”

“Thank you, Mr Jack,” she grinned up at him and he shot her a wink.

“I hope you find your daughter,” he called out as they left.

The little bell rang once more as they left the shop in search of Madame Cassandra.

Jack picked up the phone and dialled a mobile phone number.

“Hi Cass...yeah, it’s Jack…I think I might have what you’re looking for…yes, yes, I’ve sent them to you at Ocean View, you’re there today, right...?”

………………………………………………………………………………………….

**Malfoy Manor - Present Day**

Sitting on the sofa with his feet propped up on an antique Louis XIV Cabriolet armchair, Draco lounged with a Fire-whiskey opposite his long-time friend Theodore Nott. Draco supposed he could describe him as his only true and trusted friend. They had been through hell together and confided everything in one another.

“So, how goes it?” Theo swirled his ice around in his glass before downing the whiskey in one slurp.

“Shit as usual,” Draco drawled.

“That good, eh? And here’s me thinking you’ve been on a jolly in Australia,” Theo chuckled.

“Fuck me. Theo, even if I could take a bloody holiday, there’s always the looming spectre of the Dark Lord hanging over my head,” Draco sighed, “What I wouldn’t give to leave Britain and live in the Chateaux in France. I’d gladly live out my days caring for the vineyard…” he trailed off, pouring them a refill.

Theo raised an eyebrow, “And what of a woman, or women as in plural? No mention of them? Oh dear, you are in a funk.”

Draco didn’t know how to tell Theo what had been happening since last he saw him, he couldn’t fathom how to admit he’d fallen for one of his targets, let alone that it was Hermione Granger, Mudblood-Extraordinaire and in the top three of Britain’s most wanted.

“There is someone…” Draco stood and cast a Muffliato to ensure they were not overheard.

Theo gave him a cautious look, “What’s with all the cloak and dagger stuff?”

“I have something to tell you that could get both of us killed, so do excuse my overwhelming need to keep this between us.”

“Oh fuck, Draco, what have you done now?” Theo groaned, sitting back in his chair with a thump, “We made a pact that we’d get through this together, if you go and get us killed, what would be the point?”

Draco placed his drink on a side table and ran his hands through his hair. “You’re not going to like this,” Draco began, “I found Granger and I didn’t kill her. In fact, I…”

“Sweet Salazar, you fucked her, didn’t you?” Theo stood and began pacing.

“What? No, I did not, I wanted to, but I didn’t touch her, I wouldn’t, not unless she consented.”

“Merlin, would you listen to what you’re saying? This woman is on the undesirables list, right behind sodding Potter and you’re getting all gooey eyed over her, look at yourself!” Theo continued his tirade, “I know you had a thing for her at school but Circe’s tits, Draco, letting yourself be led by your cock could get you killed.”

Draco sighed dramatically, “It’s not an infatuation and I’m not being led by my cock, I love her, I’ve loved her for years.”

Theo shook his head with exasperation, “You love the Gryffindor Mudblood bookworm? Could have fooled me, there was no love lost between you and you bullied her at every given opportunity at school. So, tell me, why now Draco? What’s changed your mind? Because I’m having difficulty getting my head around this.”

“Don’t call her a Mudblood,” Draco gave him a stern stare.

Theo conceded with a slight nod of his head.

“There’s more, if you’d just let me explain.” Draco continued, “She has a daughter, she’s five and Granger says she’s mine.”

Theo slammed his hand on the mantel over the fire. “Will you listen to yourself! You sound like you’ve lost your bloody Gobstones! A child. How can you possibly be the father of this child? Was it some form of immaculate conception?”

Draco scratched his head, looking apprehensive, “It was during the final battle, we got trapped together in some rubble, one thing led to another and…” he held his hands open before him, leaving Theo to fill in the gaps.

“So, Granger got pregnant at the final battle, buggered off to Australia and was seen recently by some witch or wizard?”

“She’d lost her memory. Look, she didn’t know who she was until I used magic to abduct her. Somehow, whatever I did triggered her memory. I think you remember her fire at school, well, that was nothing compared to how pissed-off she was when she realised it was me who’d taken her. She almost slayed me with a kitchen knife, I swear it was the most terrifying moment of my life,” Draco chuckled.

“So where is she now? No, scrap that, I don’t want to know in case the Dark Lord decides to take a day trip around my mind. Shit! Do you know how much trouble I’ll be in, just from what you’ve told me?”

“I’ll obliviate you if you want? I just needed to talk to you, talk it through because with the way things stand, I’ve got to find a way to stop him getting to Hermione and Ayla if he figures out I lied.”

“Bloody hell, Draco, you’ve grown a conscience and it’ll cost all of us our lives, do you know that?” Theo let out a long breath, sitting down again. “Do you think old nose-less will allow any of us to live if this comes out? We’re disposable, haven’t you figured that out? Even your crazy aunt is disposable and she’s…”

“Please don’t remind me, I may vomit,” Draco interrupted. “Don’t you think it’s about time this ends? I can’t live like this and neither can you. We’re supposed to be the victors, but the spoils of war taste like ashes and death surrounds us every day. I can’t continue to live like this. Potter is out there. He’s been spotted and the Dark Lord is sending me after him. I have to leave soon, get back to Hermione and then go after him. What would you do in my position, Theo, would you murder our only chance of a new world or would you help him make it better, whatever the cost?”

“Are they worth dying for?” Theo said, his posture sagging, trying to listen without judging Draco.

“Once, if you’d asked me the same question, I might have said no, but at the final battle, Granger reached inside my chest and ripped out my heart. She owns me and I’m not sure I can live in a world without her in it. I don’t know my own child, she’s five and she doesn’t know who I am. I want the opportunity to get to know her in a world that’s safe for her. I know I sound like a lovesick prick, but Theo, if there’s any other reason to do this, to oust this regime, it’s love isn’t it?”

Theo contemplated what Draco had said silently.

Draco had an epiphany, “Actually, there’s one way to tell if the child is my daughter, I don’t know why I didn’t think of it sooner.”

Rushing to his father’s old study, he flung open the door and paced over to the Malfoy family tapestry. In all her glory was Ayla Malfoy under his name as his issue. He couldn’t quite remember the finer details of how the tapestry worked but gathered Granger wouldn’t be added as they weren’t married. 

“Now do you believe me?” He pointed to the embroidered child’s face. Studying his child up close he felt something wrench in his chest. This girl was his daughter and it was obvious in her features, Malfoy offspring through and through.

Theo nodded, “So, what next? You know I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth, mate, but how the fuck are we going to get close enough to the Dark Lord to kill him?”

“We aren’t, Potter is, we’ll just assist him.” Draco informed him.

“Look, this plan sounds great in your head, I’m sure, but Potter will kill you if he gets the chance and he thinks he’ll save his own skin. The blokes been on the run for five years, he’s probably hardened and resourceful, how will you get him to talk to you?”

“That’s where Granger comes in, I’ll go back and talk to her, see if she can give me some signal or way to make him listen.”

“What can I do to help?” Theo’s voice faltered and he blew out a lengthy breath. He was afraid and with good reason.

Draco looked up sharply and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I’m fucking terrified too, but if we let this go, if we allow the Dark Lord to carry on this way, the wizarding world will be decimated, and we’ll be scratching around in the ruins. The longer we leave it, the more Order members will die, if not at my hand then at some other Death Eater’s. We need to find a way to get to Rowena Ravenclaw’s Diadem, to destroy it and give Potter a chance. I will find him, and I’ll gather the Order and any others who can help, but you can make a start on researching the magic protecting the Diadem, find a way to get to it. You need to research Horcruxes, your father must have kept something in the ancient section of the library at Nott Manor. Can you do that?”

Theo’s face turned ashen and he blinked rapidly. Finding some bravado, he nodded. “Buggering hell, If I’m going to die, then best make it count,” he clapped his hand on Draco’s shoulder.

“We’re not going to die. We’re going to do this and end this bastard.” Draco ripped down the tapestry and rolled it up, shrinking it down in size so it fit in his pocket. He couldn’t risk anyone seeing Ayla’s name, even though the Manor rarely had visitors. “I’ll be in touch as soon as I can, and Theo…”

Theo looked up, his eyes damp and bright.

“Thank you,” Draco clapped Theo’s back.

“Yeah, yeah. Just get to Potter, leave the rest to me,” he chuckled as Draco was about to leave, “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever wished for Grangers help as much as now, she’d know exactly where to find the information we need.”

“Yeah,” Draco gave Theo a ghost of a smile, “Yeah, happen she would.”

………………………………………………………………………………………

**Bunbury WA – The Safehouse**

The house was quiet when Draco arrived home, with nobody manning the gates, which had his hackles up immediately.

His owl to the Dark Lord had advised he had several stops to make to collect supplies, portkeys and weapons before heading to South Africa. This gave him some time to return to Australia and talk things through with Hermione before he left in search of Potter. They needed to come up with a plan and he only had a day or less to convince Hermione it would work.

Having made a few stops for supplies and a gift for Hermione, he found all the staff with Hermione, gathered in the lounge watching a muggle movie on a giant screen with big bowls of popcorn and treats strewn around them.

Leaning against the doorway, he watched them intently as a love scene played out, some guy professing his undying love to a woman who was in the hospital. The fact his security team appeared to be sobbing like little boys who’d skinned their knees amused Draco to no end. He hadn’t the heart to be angry with them and after today, he hoped to release them shortly from the Imperius curse and send them on their way with a nest egg for the future. It wasn’t an apology, but it was the best he could do.

Watching them all, he regretted ever using them in this way, even taking Hermione like he did, but he’d found himself so lost in amongst orders from the Dark Lord, a life of death and internal pain locked away so deeply, he wasn’t sure who he was anymore. He hated who he’d become and only now realised it was Hermione who had made him stop and think about what he was doing. Draco knew there was only so much he could blame on the fear of death because if he was truly honest with himself, the only reason he’d carried on was in the hope, one day, he might see her again. That was no excuse for what he’d done, and he knew he deserved death for all the lives he’d taken.

Here he could take a moment to breathe, to take in the brevity of what he was about to do. He’d allow it for a little while, because he was so tired, he wasn’t sure how much longer he could go on without collapsing from exhaustion. His head lolled against the door frame as he watched them all. They could show emotion in a way he wasn’t sure he ever could, his soul was too dark and too tainted to ever be as light-hearted as any of these people.

Hermione began to sob as the credits rolled and he took this as the opportunity to clear his throat.

The staff rushed past, wiping their eyes and making apologies for being there. He waved them away and moved tentatively to Hermione’s side, taking a seat and pulling her to his chest.

“I’m sorry, for everything,” his voice cracked as she cried into his chest. He smoothed her hair away from her face and rubbed her back with a flat palm. There was no need to ask why she was crying; he knew she must be confused and she missed Ayla and her family – the movie had just been a trigger for all that emotion.

“I miss her, Draco, I miss her so much,” she wept, “please let me go to her,” she pushed herself up on his chest to face him, tears streaming down her face, “we could bring her here, we could be together and you wouldn’t hurt her, I know you wouldn’t hurt her. She’s my life, Draco, it’s been days and she must be distraught without me. Please, please, please.”

Draco’s heart broke for her and he drew her closer. This was all his fault and it was only he who could put it right.

“I need to talk to you,” he said gruffly, trying to bite back any hint of emotion at Hermione’s pitiful display, “I have a plan I need to discuss with you.”

Standing, he lifted Hermione, placing one arm behind her shoulders and the other under her knees, and carried her up the stairs to her room where he placed her on the bed and left to run her a bubble bath. He needed her compos mentis if he was to discuss everything he wanted, and he was under such a tight schedule.

“Hermione, come now, get into the bath, it’ll make you feel better.” He ushered her to her bathroom.

“W-wanting to drown me now, are you?” She gave him a watery smile.

“Oh, I think you know by now that’s never going to happen.” he chuckled, but his heart raced at the implication, he knew whatever he did would never make up for what he’d put her through. 

Hermione closed the door, removed her clothes, and slid into the water, realising Draco had charmed it to relax her and dispel her woes, she felt happier as she luxuriated under the bubbles.

There was a knock at the door, and this startled her, she hadn’t expected Draco to want to come in.

“May I come in? Just to talk, I’ll stand with my back to you if you’d like?” He asked.

“Err, yeah, I think the bubbles are sufficient to cover me, you can come in,” she answered.

Draco sank to his knees beside the bath, sitting back on his haunches.

“You look tired,” Hermione reached out to caress his cheek. Somehow all the pretences and the lustful thoughts were gone and now between them was a kind of acceptance of the situation. She was glad to see him in a strange way, even though he was still essentially her jailor.

He leaned into her hand, savouring the gentleness of her touch like a cat desperate for attention. This was what he’d always wanted, he wanted her to love him like he loved her. 

He sat back, mercurial eyes on hers, “This has to stop, I can’t carry on serving the Dark Lord like some pleb, I’m a Malfoy and Malfoys lead, we do not follow, cowering in fear and doling out death like some spectre of darkness,” he gave a haughty smirk.

Hermione’s heart began to thump, what was he saying? Was he saying he would release her? Allow her to go home?

“I have a gift for you.” He took a long black box from his pocket and held it out to her. It was neatly tied with a red and gold ribbon.

“You didn’t have to, you know it can’t make up for what you’ve done,” she said seriously.

“I know that, but I think this will make you feel better and it’s the best apology I can offer for now.”

Her words hit him like a punch to the gut. It was all well and good deciding to change, to defect, he supposed, but it still wouldn’t be enough.

Hermione bit her lip as she opened the box, her eyes flicking between the gift and Draco’s eyes.

“Oh!” She looked up at him.

“Vinewood, ten- and three-quarter inches long, with dragon heartstring core,” he murmured.

She took it from the box and studied it, peering down its length and then testing its weight. The feeling of having her wand back felt so visceral and inherently her, it was like coming home. Every nerve was on fire as her magic poured through her veins, setting off what felt like tiny explosions in her mind. Her finger drifted over the familiar wood, caressing each curve and coil of knot. 

“Thank you,” Hermione found herself grinning. Now she was herself again, a mugginess cleared totally from her mind, she wouldn’t allow anyone to hurt her or her family again. Turning in the water, she prodded the wand into the soft skin under Draco’s jaw. She could kill him if she wanted to. He no longer had the upper hand here, she was the one wielding the power.

Draco was silent, his eyes hooded and his face tilted as he awaited her next move. In his gut, he knew there was a chance she would turn on him once she reclaimed her magic. She pushed the wand and it dug deeper into the skin beside his carotid artery, moving onto her knees in the water to face him, bubbles and liquid sliding over the hardened peaks of her breasts like an avenging angel. Her face was set, determined. Whatever she was about to do would come to pass, of that he was sure.

Now the balance of power was restored, Draco was at her mercy. This wasn’t a time for words, and he knew he would never beg her for his life. He was resolved and unyielding, if she decided his life would end there in the bathroom, with water slopping over the sides of the large clawfoot bath then he would leave this life at her hand with no regrets. She could grant him the redemption he so desperately craved. His life for his deeds.

The air was thick with tension for several moments as she twisted the wand painfully. He had no right to plead for her to make it quick, he had left her in suspense these past days, uncertain of whether she would live and he had earned her wrath.

“I have a plan to take down the Dark Lord,” he croaked.

Her eyes wide, she removed the wand, throwing it to the floor.

Letting out a whimper, she took a heaving breath, “Kiss me.”

Overwhelmed, Draco’s eyelashes fluttered, unsure he’d heard her properly.

“Kiss me, Draco,” she demanded, reaching over to grasp a handful of his hair, pulling him closer.

“We shouldn’t do this, I’m like a slow progressing poison for you,” he uttered, only half believing what he was saying. Bracing his hands on the bath, he reached for her, smashing his lips onto hers, his hands chastely gripping her naked hips. His bewildered brain informed him she had only asked for a kiss. An alternate message was received by his cock, which stood at full mast in his trousers.

“Fuck I’ve missed you. I want you so badly, you’ve ruined me Granger, ever since that first time I haven’t been able to think of anything or anyone else,” he gasped as her lips moved to trail over the spot where she’d held her wand, her kisses and nips like individual apologies for her harsh treatment of his skin.

Grabbing his collar, she pulled him closer still as she lay back in the bath. He hovered over her, leaning into smouldering kisses, his hands ached to touch her, to take her and make her remember how good it once was between them.

Balancing precariously, he allowed her to pull him into the bath, between her legs. The water sloshed over the side of the bath, soapy bubbles rushing in rivers across the floor. He let out a groan as his knee met the bottom of the bath, his lips instantly latching onto her neck before both began to laugh. Draco wanted nothing more than to hear the sound of her playful, tinkling laughter for the rest of his days; however short they might be; but his libido didn’t allow it, his tongue met hers with desperate, smouldering kisses, lathing hers as they entwined.

She let out a desperate mewl as she rocked her hips against his, “Please, Draco I need you.”

His fingers danced over her saturated skin, his palms flattening as they reached her breasts as he pushed himself lower to take her taut nipples between his lips. She mewled and arched her back, gasping for breath as her hands grasped his hair.

“I’d forgotten how g-good…I, oh, fuck!” She panted as she tried to divest him of his sopping shirt. 

Draco felt like he was being given absolution in her arms, the warm, sudsy water vindicating him of his sins, or at least those against her. He knew in the recess of his mind the other things he’d done could never be washed away so easily.

He had never forgotten the feel of her, the way she moved under him, the way she looked with her body bowed in pleasure.

“Hermione,” he murmured against her skin as his lips trailed lower, pushing her further up the bath as he reached the apex of her thighs, his hands behind her knees as he separated them, giving her no time to adjust before his tongue dipped inside her pussy, tasting her essence. She tasted as good as he remembered, like sharp apple and clear honey and he set to work, circumnavigating her nubbin with his tongue like a man dying of thirst.

Hermione wanted him, she wanted him so badly she could hardly see straight. As his fingers entered her, she rocked through an orgasm so powerful her hips lifted from the water as she rode his face to completion, her hand gripping his hair.

Dazed, she relaxed back into the water. His eyes were darker than tar, the mercurial colour of his irises lost to his overblown pupils. He looked almost feral as she reached for the waistband of his trousers, deftly opening his button and zipper, pushing at the bottom of his trousers with her feet.

“Quickly, I need to feel you,” she demanded.

Draco chuckled as he struggled with the waterlogged material. He threw them from the bath, and they landed with a splat on the already flooded floor. “Demanding little witch, aren’t you? I see nothing has changed there,” he smirked.

She bit her lip, trailing a finger down his sternum, “And you’re still as gorgeous as I remember, now, hurry before I change my mind,” she giggled rising and pushing him back. She thanked Merlin for Draco’s forethought in putting the large bath in her bathroom as she climbed onto his lap, intent on taking what she wanted.

“Is this okay?” She murmured in his ear.

“Fuck, Granger, more than alright. If you don’t, I might explode,” he gasped.

As she sank down onto his cock, his expletives echoed around her ears. He filled her so perfectly and she threw her head back as he bottomed out, hitting that perfect spot as she began to ride him with fervour.

Draco’s hands found her arse and squeezed the two globes as he pulled her into a rhythm, the muscles in his arms flexing and tempering as the two joined together in an age-old dance.

Hermione’s clit rubbed deliciously against his lower abdomen and the fine hairs surrounding his cock and she soon found herself on the cresting on the cusp of another climax. "Oh, oh my...don't stop, Draco, please don't stop..." 

Draco couldn’t hold on, it had been so long and she had repeated the very same words she had five years ago. Much as he hoped to spend hours causing her to make those delightful sounds, he felt his balls draw up as she milked his cock.

“Fuck, Granger, fuck, fuck….Ugh!” He grunted as he filled her with his hot seed. She was as fucking perfect as the fantasy he’d kept sequestered away in the back of his mind.

He laid his head on her shoulder, almost purring in satisfaction as she ran her fingers through his damp hair, a mixture of sweat and bubbles.

Moments later she pulled back and kissed him sweetly, “Thank you for my wand.”

He chuckled, “You didn’t shag me in payment, I hope?”

She slapped his chest lightly, “Of course not, I-I did it because I wanted you, Godrick, I couldn’t help myself,” she moved back, leaning against the opposite end of the bath, facing him.

“I know I’m hot, it would only have been a matter of time, princess,” he gave her a devilish grin.

“Could your head get any bigger?” She lifted her foot and kicked some water into his face with her toes.

He wiped down his face, “Ha-ha, very funny,” he yanked on her foot, causing her head to dip under the water. She came up spluttering.

“Do you want me to get my wand?” She coughed.

Draco held his hands up, yielding, “You know, you’re so hot when you’re righteous.” His tongue darted out to wet his lower lip and he lifted her leg, kissing her ankle.

Hermione threw herself into his arms, squashing him and snogging him deeply. “Perhaps I’ll make an honest man of you yet?” She smiled, laying her hands on his chest as he drew small circles on her lower back with his fingertips, “Now, tell me about your plan.”

**@samadiw's** artwork is so amazing. If you haven't checked out her fic on here and her art on Tumblr and Instagram please do, you won't regret it!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this is a bit delayed and also apologise for not replying to your comments this week. I will get to them and I'm always grateful for them. 
> 
> At the end of the last chapter we had a bit of smut and the following ending: 
> 
> Draco held his hands up, yielding, “You know, you’re so hot when you’re righteous.” His tongue darted out to wet his lower lip and he lifted her leg, kissing her ankle.  
> Hermione threw herself into his arms, squashing him and snogging him deeply. “Perhaps I’ll make an honest man of you yet?” She smiled, laying her hands on his chest as he drew small circles on her lower back with his fingertips, “Now, tell me about your plan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks my awesome beta @Riverrr for her hard work on this story, and the amazing @Mimifreed and @samadiw for the beautiful artwork. Also to everyone who has commented or contacted me over on Tumblr, you are all awesome, please don't stop letting me know what you think.

_To be willing is only half the task_

\- Armenian Proverb

**Bunbury WA – The Safehouse**

Hermione was wrapped in a plush towel, sitting on her bed beside Draco as he continued to fill her in on the scheme he’d thought up, his idea to bring Potter to England and finish off Voldemort for good.

“Do you seriously think I’d help you get to Harry like that? Draco, you’re delusional, one shag and your brain has gone to mush,” she scowled, “giving me a new wand doesn’t automatically make everything alright, it could be a device to convince me you’ve turned over a new leaf but you could be hoodwinking me.”

“I know you’re finding it hard to trust me, but I thought…I never mind what I thought, this was a mistake,” Draco stood to leave.

As Draco reached the door, she spoke. “Why? Why would you do this, defect now, so late in the game?”

He paused, what answer could he give her? He was afraid to tell her the truth but then the truth was what was required, or she would never trust him.

“Because I want you, I want my daughter and I need to make the world safe again for you.” He turned and banged his head lightly on the doorframe, “Because, even if you don’t want me I need to know there won't be a day when Death Eaters knock on your door and kill you in front of Ayla.”

“Huh, so now there’s a reason you’ll stop killing. Forgive me Draco if this sounds harsh, but murdering people at the behest of a megalomaniac is a moral choice and you made the wrong one. You could have left, gone on the run like the Order! And how the hell do you propose to keep us safe while this plan is being carried out? Surely you don’t think he who should not be named is stupid enough not to realise you lied if I’m sighted again which, undoubtedly, I will be. I refuse to leave my job, I love the children and its Ayla’s first school, these are important years for her education and development. I won’t go into hiding. I’m not disrupting her life more. She’ll probably have nightmares for months after this and what I can’t fathom, is how her own father still kept me away from her when he knew she would be so scared she’d lost me forever. You must remember how it felt to be a scared child, Draco!”

“Of course, I bloody do!” He roared, “do you think my life’s been all sunshine and roses since the Dark Lord entered it? I’ve suffered too! Do you think it was easy to kill those people? It became easy because I shut away the side of myself that loves you, the side of me which made a promise to you that day that I wouldn’t kill in the final battle. I had no choice after that, my mother was distraught, and my father was…” He trailed off. He’d said too much. If this was the end and she was going to leave him, she didn’t need to know the gory, finer details of his father’s death, she already knew enough.

It was Hermione’s turn to be silent. Had he just professed his love to her? This certainly changed things. Now she understood why he didn’t kill her and the pieces of the puzzle slotted into place.

“I didn’t say it you had it easy, Draco,” she stood and touched his arm gently, “I just need to be able to trust you. I could never help you find Harry unless I know you aren’t a danger to him; you must know that?”

Draco was in fight or flight mode, he stared uncertainly at the floor.

“I’ve really fucked up, haven’t I? You’ll never forgive me for any of this,” he muttered, “I don’t deserve your forgiveness, that’s why I want to do this, to make it safe for you and our daughter. I’ll die happy when I know you can live your life without looking over your shoulder for the next attack, Hermione.”

Hermione saw the lost look in his eyes, the desperation. He needed to be given a chance, perhaps a chance nobody else had ever given him, but it was a huge risk, though perhaps the only risk she could and would take, because she agreed with him, she couldn’t live like this, not now she remembered her past. She knew she might regret it, but she wound her arms around his waist and laid her head on his chest.

Lifting her hand to trace his jaw with her thumb she nodded, “Alright.”

“Alright?”

“Yes, I’ll help you, not that I think there is much I can do, I don’t know where any of them are or how to contact them,” she relented.

“All I need is something, a word, a phrase, a memory, something only Potter would know. I also want to send you to a family property I inherited from my mother’s family on the south coast of Ireland, nobody would think to look there. To muggles, it looks like a ramshackle cottage on a smallholding. You could think of it as a holiday and I promise you I will try my best to ensure all of this is over before your children go back to school.”

Hermione placed a hand over his heart and said softly, “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

He looked longingly into her eyes and Hermione shivered at the intensity she found in the depths of those mercuric orbs.

“Did you mean it?” Hermione berated herself for her constant need to know, it always got her into trouble and she often worried she might end up like a little Miss Marple in her old age, butting into everyone’s business. She didn’t want to push him, but she had to know.

Draco froze. He knew exactly what she meant, he’d let slip that he loved her and now was his recompense. He was more in love with her than ever since he’d got to know her better. With one word she could tear him down, break him with what she said next.

“I meant it,” he said hoarsely, nerves eating at him inside. His stomach was a swirling mass of anxiety.

“Okay,” she replied, standing on her tiptoes, and kissing his cheek.

“Okay?” He licked his lips anxiously.

“Yes, it’s okay,” she replied, brushing some loose strands of hair back from his forehead.

Draco felt somewhat appeased, but it still didn’t mean he had a clue what she felt about him. It was enough, for now.

**Bunbury WA – Ocean View Present day**

“Now darling, be quiet, there might be some sick elderly people here, so no running around and no wandering off,” Monika said to Ayla. The little girl was a little tearful and had been asking about her mother again. She clasped tightly to her grandmother’s hand.

“Yes, Nana,” she sniffed as Monika cupped her cheek and wiped her face.

Entering the foyer, they came to a halt at the reception desk.

“Hello, we’re here to meet Madame Cassandra, a friend of hers said she might be able to see us,” Monika began.

“Oh, yes, she said you might arrive. If you could wait here, I believe she’s just finishing up her session.”

The nurse indicated to some seats in the waiting area.

Monika sat and Ayla climbed onto her lap, sucking her thumb, her eyes closing. Monika knew the poor child had been through the wringer and was emotionally exhausted. Monika herself had hardly slept since Hermione’s disappearance and was running on empty. She also closed her eyes for a moment.

Twenty minutes later, she awoke to a gentle hand tapping her arm. Opening her eyes, she found a woman standing before her with long, reddish grey hair, with a passive face. She blinked as the woman smiled, but she noted it didn’t quite reach her eyes. She wore a long midnight blue maxi dress and had huge, hooped earrings, with little stars hanging from them and her sun-aged skin was rather leathery looking. All in all, she had a kindly face with deep-set blue eyes.

“Madame Cassandra?” Monika said, her voice croaky. 

“Crickey, there’s no need to be formal, love, you can call me Cass.” She sat down beside Monika and the still sleeping Ayla. “She’s a little beaut. What's her name?”

“She’s Ayla and I’m Monika. Jack from the magic shop said you might be able to help me find my daughter. She was kidnapped and we have no leads.”

“The cops can’t help?” Cass asked.

“No, it’s, err, it’s not that kind of case. Well, they think it is…oh, it's difficult to explain. The man who took her, he, well, h-he…”

“Calm yourself, love lets go for a cuppa and you can tell me all about it. I can see in your aura you’re finding this very stressful and you’re exhausted. Let’s just chill and chat, they bake some fantastic Lamington’s. It’s just around the corner.” Cass helped Monika up.

They chatted about general things on the short walk, about what Cass did with the old people at the home and what Monika did for a living.

Once settled in the little antique tea shop Cass passed Monika a cup of Camomile tea and one of their famous Lamingtons. Ayla, who was now awake and peering curiously at the new lady, had juice and a biscuit with a clown’s face on it.

“The tea will relax you and the nipper seems happy enough with her cookie.” Her eyes came to rest on Ayla for a few moments longer than was usual, but Monika brushed it off. “So, is it alright to talk about this in front of the little bub?”

“Yes, Ayla saw more than the rest of us. Why don’t you tell the nice lady what you saw, sweetheart?” She directed at Ayla.

The little girl seemed unusually shy and moved to hide her face behind her grandmother’s arm.

“Oh, dear, it looks like someone’s a bit shy today,” Monika smoothed Ayla’s curls and began to relay what had happened, what Ayla had seen.

Cass listened attentively, occasionally asking questions. Monika had left out the part about Hermione’s past, for fear of sounding like she was living in a fantasy world.

“This young’ un has one of the strongest auras I’ve ever experienced. She will grow up to be a powerful woman,” Cass noted, her eyes straying back to the little girl who was by now back to eating her biscuit.

Ayla looked up fearfully and mumbled, “Nana, I don’t like it here, it feels wrong.”

“Darling, don’t be silly, we're perfectly safe here and Cass is going to help us,” she turned to Cass and asked nervously, “you are going to help us, aren’t you?”

“I am, but I’ll need to take you to my loft, it’s a few streets away and I have all my magical bumph there.” She lowered her voice as the waitress moved towards them to clear some empty cups from the next table.

Monika was desperate and she knew realistically she shouldn’t go to a stranger’s home she had just met, but all reason left her when she heard Cass say she would help.

Ayla looked frightened, “Nana, let’s go home,” she begged, pulling on her sleeve but unable to articulate why she was afraid.

“Ayla, we just need to make one stop and then we’ll go to the market and get some snags for dinner, your favourite, hmm,” she hugged and kissed her granddaughter’s head.

Ayla still wasn’t convinced but she held her grandmother’s hand as the followed Cass.

They mostly walked the route to Cass’s loft with minimal chit chat and Cass unlocked the door, heading upstairs to a spacious loft, over an old, empty factory. The room was filled with an array of candles, hanging crystals, ancient pottery and minimal furniture, its chairs covered with ethnic throws. A few painted screens seemed to shield a bedroom space and the overall effect was striking. Its windows were filthy, but Monika reasoned this was probably because they were difficult to clean when so high up.

“I’ll just gather some crystals, make yourself comfortable,” Cass left them in the sitting area and disappeared behind a screen.

Monika began to feel woozy after several moments and reached for Ayla, “Darling, Nana is not feeling too well, I think we should go.”

Monika could barely register through the muzzy feeling in her brain that she’d been drugged somehow. She knew she had to get them out of there before something disastrous happened. Before that could happen, her eyes closed, and she fell back onto the sofa.

Ayla was distraught, “Nana,” she yelled pulling at her arm as she passed out, falling back into the chair. “Nana, please!” She screamed.

“What on earth is going on?” Cass returned, and in her hand was a silver dagger. Hermione would have recognised it as similar to the blade used by Bellatrix Lestrange to kill Dobby, but here Ayla knew no such thing and she began to scream, hiding behind the sofa and trying to pull her grandmother to her.

“This won’t hurt a bit, just hold your hand out, little witch and then I’ll let you and your precious Nana leave.”

Cass wasn’t going to stand for a child disobeying her. She was the head of the Australian purist society, who sought out pureblood witches and wizards to join their ranks. In her last fire call with Lord Voldemort, he had commended the society on its tactics, vowing to assist them in a countrywide takeover once they were ready. She had noted Ayla was a witch immediately and gathered she was unlikely to be of pureblood decent, especially as her grandmother was a muggle. Monika knew of the wizarding world, that was for certain, she dropped little hints which Cass picked up. It had made her day when Jack called and told her he was sending her someone she might have a vested interest in.

“Just stop!” Cass yelled moving closer with the dagger, “I need only a tiny amount of your blood, it will be but a prick.”

Cass’s blood was boiling as the little girl escaped her clutches and ran behind every piece of furniture she could.

“I’m getting angry now, just come here, there’s no need for this fuss!” She shouted, doubling over in pain as Ayla kicked her in the shins. “Why, you little shit!” She sliced through the air with the knife, catching the material at the back of Ayla’s dress and ripping it with the blade.

Ayla ran back to Monika, shaking her and screaming. “Nana! Nana, please!”

Monika’s eyes fluttered and she reached for her granddaughter with sluggish movements, her mouth moving but nothing coming out.

Cass came closer with a smirk. “Your Nana can’t save you now!” she said acidly.

“Stay. Away. From. My. Nana!” Ayla bit out, her eyes filled with a fire Hermione and Draco would be proud of, her jaw set with determination. When Cass stepped closer, Ayla let out a burst of accidental magic so huge, it sent Cass flying across the room and into a wall, knocking her out. The knife clattered to the floor beside her.

“S-ss, I’m, sor.. A-Ayla…” Monika stumbled as she stood, wrapping a sobbing Ayla in her arms.

She made it to the stairs and slowly, with Ayla’s help, managed to navigate them, the sunlight almost blinding her as she made it onto the street. Leaning against the wall, she pulled out her phone from her pocket.

“W-Wendell? I-It’s m-me, something happened, I n-need you to come and get me, quickly…yes, s-she’s with me, I-I’m going to pass out again, I k-know it….Elizabeth Street, near the coast road….hurry, p-please hurry…” Monika slid down the wall to the floor with Ayla hugged to her tightly. “I’m sorry darling, so sorry.”

Passer-by’s stopped to ask if they were alright and someone offered to call the cops. Monika shook her head; because she had no idea what she would tell them.

………………………………………………………………………………………….

**Bunbury WA – The Safehouse**

“So, you said he was spotted in South Africa, where exactly?” Hermione opened up a muggle Atlas to a page with giant world map Draco had bought as part of his supply run.

“Cape Town, he was seen in a market. Well, let’s say, the information I received said he was glimpsed using a cloak of invisibility late at night.”

“Harry was nothing if not careful, he must have been certain nobody could see him when he used it. If he’s been on the run for five years, he’d be meticulous about his movements. The cloak would’ve been the last resort, perhaps he knew he was being followed?”

“Those great lummoxes on Unit B couldn’t be quiet if their lives depended on it, Godrick knows how they ever capture anyone. Potter probably heard them long before he saw them. The question is whether he will have found a way out yet? The units are watching every exit from Cape Town, land, air and sea.”

Hermione tapped the quill against her lip, taking her parchment and making some notes.

“I can’t stay much longer; I need to meet the unit in Cape Town and at least be seen to continue the search. I plan to head out for a couple of days, find Potter and talk to him.”

“I want to come, Draco, please don’t leave me here, I’ll just sit here pulling my hair out.” Hermione stood up and moved towards Draco, straddling him in his seat and placing kisses along his jawline.

“Bribery won’t get you what you want. You would be my greatest asset but I can't risk you, even under a glamour or Polyjuice, the unit have their ways of uncovering magical deception and it would get you a one way trip to the Dark Lord.”

“But…”

“No, Hermione, please don’t ask me again.” He captured her jaw with one hand, pulling her in for a sweet kiss to the lips.

She pouted, and rocked her hips against him, he groaned, pulling her closer by her hips.

“Don’t do this, I haven’t got time and it won’t change anything, much as I’d be happy to fuck you six ways from Sunday over this desk.” He chuckled.

Even using her wiliest of womanly wiles, it seemed his mind was made up. “I’ll miss you.” She whispered in his ear.

He laid his forehead on her breast, “Me too. You can’t imagine how hard it is to leave you again, especially now we’ve made love.” He tucked a curl behind her ear. “I just want to carry on shagging you until you can’t walk.” He lamented. He lifted her and set her on her feet. “Now, come on, I need to know what I’m going to tell Potter, your secret code or something only he would know, not Weasley, or anyone else, just him.”

Made love? Is that what he said, she thought she may have misheard him. He had openly admitted that he loved her, and she still wasn’t quite sure how she felt. Everything had been so mixed up and he had kidnapped her for Circe’s sake, but somehow none of that mattered when he told her he was going to defect, that it was worth it for love. She knew she fancied him, lusted after him, cared about him even, but love? She wasn’t close to that yet. She wanted him in her life to find out if she could fall for him. The practical side of Hermione wanted stability and to get to know him better before she committed to anything concrete between them. She had Ayla to consider in all this and, although she thought she wanted Draco, she also needed time to sort through her feelings, to compartmentalise her feelings about everything that had happened in the past week.

She needed to come up with something that only she had said to Harry, something unquestionable, something indisputable, and eventually decided on something only she and Harry knew.

“Tell him, you know about the flowers I placed on his parents grave in the graveyard at Godrick’s Hollow. He’ll know it was only us there that night, tell him it was a wreath made of Christmas roses. There’s no way anyone else would have known who they were from or what I did. It was dark and snowing and it was the first time he’d seen his parent’s grave. We’d been hunting Horcruxes for months and we were weary, emotional and dog tired.” She lost herself to the memory. Sometimes she wished she’d never regained her memory, some of the things that had begun to come back to her were excruciating. “When you find him, tell him I understand but I’m very angry with him for doing what he did, I was still in danger all these years and I didn’t know it. That said, tell him I love him, I miss him and if he doesn’t get his arse back to me then I’ll never forgive him. That should do it.” She gave Draco a tearful smile.

Draco hated doing this to her. All he wanted was to tuck her away from danger and take away all her cares and woes, he wanted to make her happy again. “Alright then. I suppose I should get going.” He stood; his chest tight at the thought of leaving her.

She carried on looking at the map, pondering over where Harry might be at this moment or what he might be doing. She wondered if he was afraid, or just resigned to his life after all this time.

Draco returned wearing black army fatigues, with a tight black t-shirt and combat boots, he had a kit bag slung over his shoulder which he shrank down to fit into a pocket in his trousers.

Hermione took out her wand and raised it to his head, “Colovaria,” she murmured, changing his hair from platinum blonde to black. His face was just as handsome, but she knew he might stand out less.

“If I don’t return to you in a few days, get Ayla and your family and take them to these co-ordinates.” He handed her a piece of parchment and a small keyring, a Portkey, “Don’t stop to gather anything other than what you need, the rest will be provided, there will be elves there who will get anything else, just don’t breach the wards on the property. I’ve left instructions there for you and I’ll send word as soon as I can.” He kissed the crown of her head, moving away before he lost the will to leave and gathered her into his arms.

As Draco waited for his Portkey to whisk him away, she said one last thing. “Come back to me, please, Draco, whatever happens, it's not worth losing your life over. I’ll expect you to bring Harry back in one piece too.” She couldn’t help the single tear which trailed down her cheek.

“I meant it, you know,” he said earnestly, his eyes intense as they stared into hers “I love you, Hermione.”

Hermione opened her mouth to answer but Draco disappeared before her eyes.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> End of Chapter 10...  
> As Draco waited for his Portkey to whisk him away, she said one last thing. “Come back to me, please, Draco, whatever happens, it's not worth losing your life over. I’ll expect you to bring Harry back in one piece too.” She couldn’t help the single tear which trailed down her cheek.  
> “I meant it, you know,” he said earnestly, his eyes intense as they stared into hers “I love you, Hermione.”  
> Hermione opened her mouth to answer but Draco disappeared before her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks my awesome beta @Riverrr for her hard work on this story, and the amazing @Mimifreed and @samadiw for the beautiful artwork. Also to everyone who has commented or contacted me over on Tumblr, you are all awesome, please don't stop letting me know what you think.

_The reputation of a thousand years may be determined by the conduct of one hour_

\- Japanese Proverb

**Cape Town, SA – Present Day**

“Do as you’ve been told by the Dark Lord, you are no longer required here, I have been sent to take down Potter and return him to our Lord, since you bunch of incompetent wankers have no idea what a soft approach is and you’ve lost him several times already,” Draco bit out. 

He had found the unit easily, getting drunk in a dive of a back-street bar. They seemed to fit in, strangely, and luckily for them the bar was empty that afternoon.

“Malfoy, you must be joking, I’m not leaving this prize Bounty to you, the Dark Lords lapdog,” Goyle Senior spluttered his muggle beer all over the table.

Draco sighed and rolled his eyes, “That is wishful thinking. Haven’t you noticed no witch or wizard is truly in his favour?” He replied sternly; he would not let these idiots get to him.

“Apart from your aunt, eh, Malfoy?” His old henchman, Crabbe junior, elbowed the wizard next to him. Draco didn’t know the other wizards name, but he would remember his face and wipe that smirk right off it when the opportunity arose.

“Not even her. I believe she had hoped for more than just being his whipping witch, the one he takes everything out on that goes wrong. Believe me, he is displeased at every turn and she is afraid of him. The wickedest witch alive, would you believe it? Would you have him more angered that you’ve ignored his orders? Because I’m sure he could think up tortures that would make the cruciatus look like a child’s birthday party.”

They were silent and a few shook their heads, glad it wasn’t them.

“Then give me the information you have and begin searching for the other Order members. Charlie Weasley can only be in so many places with half a dozen massive dragons,” he tutted.

“We’ll leave, but we won’t forget this, Malfoy. You’re like your father, in it for the glory of the Malfoy name. Well, your thousand-year-old heritage won’t stop a stray Avada. Watch your back!” Goyle Senior thundered, finishing his drink and beckoning the others to leave after slamming a piece of parchment on the table before Draco.

As the door slammed shut, Draco went to the bar to inquire about available rooms in the dirty establishment, it was ideally placed for him to read through the information Goyle had reluctantly given him. With any luck, he wouldn’t be there long.

…………………………..

**Cape Town, SA – Present Day**

Harry Potter was on high alert, he knew there were Death Eaters stationed at any place he could use to escape.

Two days before, he had gone on a supply run at midnight and had stupidly dropped his guard. Before he knew it, he was hiding behind some shelves in the food store, unaware there was a security mirror behind him, reflecting his position to anyone who cared to look.

Two Death Eaters had entered the store, hexing or killing the owners, he couldn’t be sure as they’d fallen behind the counter.

What occurred next was a fight like he’d never experienced alone. He’d always had back up or come across a lone Death Eater during his time on the run. He hadn’t used his wand for a long time; for fear of his signature being traced; and had to scramble to find it in his pocket, throwing a well-placed Sectumsempra at the first Death Eater and running for the door. He screamed Expulso, shooting behind him and creating an explosion, but he missed and the other chased him, apparating ahead of him and barely missing him with a Locomotor Mortis curse as Harry dodged out of the way at the last minute, his seeker reflexes still as honed as ever.

Harry darted down alleys he now knew by heart, hearing more raised voices behind him. His heart was racing, his pulse hammering in his throat. He’d truly thought that this was it, they had him.

He’d hit a dead end, some locked gates ahead and he shot a Confringo, causing them to burst open, fully intending to use it as a distraction while he ran up the steps on a fire escape beside him leading to some old factory buildings to wait it out. Taking out his invisibility cloak, he’d swiftly thrown it over himself, rushing into the yard through the gates which was filled with old, rusted cars.

“I saw him, he has an invisibility cloak so he’s here somewhere, I get first dibs on that,” one of them whispered loudly.

“Piss off, Crabbe, the Dark Lord would skin you alive if you tried to take something so priceless,” another retorted.

Harry recognized Vincent Crabbe; he was older but still looked the same. He stupidly tried using a Revelio charm, which Harry remembered was difficult for second years when they’d learned it and Crabbe had barely moved beyond first year magic in all his time at Hogwarts, if he recalled correctly. Now, if he had used Homenum Revelio, it might have been a different matter and Harry thanked every God out there for it.

“Don’t be a dick, Crabbe, Revelio won’t work on a cloak like that,” a voice said, pushing him as they passed. Crabbe’s friend was clearly as thick as he.

More arrived and they’d searched the area under Lumos Maxima, still not finding Harry, who had slipped inside a storm drain and was watching their feet as they passed him. It had taken hours to get rid of the pungent smell of faeces, but he had escaped, finally.

Exhausted and starving, he lay on his bed in his hideout on the edge of town, he hadn’t managed to get any food and was living on a few leftover crackers and tap water, he couldn’t risk ordering takeaway food. He studied the map Alberforth had given him once more which covered a two-mile radius. The Death Eaters had barely moved for days and Harry’s eyes were sore and blurred from lack of sleep as he waited for them to advance on him. Something that never happened.

His eyes fluttered closed at seven am on the morning of the third day. He’d been asleep for forty minutes when he jerked awake, looking straight to the map and noticing they were gone. Elated, he stretched and got up to take a piss. He would need a whole day to sleep and recharge his batteries before he ventured out for supplies again.

Unbeknownst to Harry, he hadn’t seen the one Death Eater who was staying just outside the two-mile perimeter of the map.

Six hours after he fell asleep, Draco Malfoy’s footsteps appeared on the map, yards from his hideout.

……………………………………………………………………………………

**Bunbury WA - The Wilkins House**

“I can’t believe you put her in danger like this Monika, I told you not to take her with you.” Wendell said lowly but his voice portraying how furious he was.

He had given Ayla some headphones to play a game on his phone, so they could talk without little ears listening in.

“I’m sorry, I’m just desperate to get Hermione back, I can’t take this anymore.” Monika sobbed into her hands.

“It’s not just about you taking her to some dangerous sorceress, who by rights might have just taken your money and fed you a load of crap, it’s that you ignored me when I asked you not to. She could’ve been killed, and so could you and then what would I do without you both? Without Hermione too? My life wouldn’t be worth living.”

Tears were running down his face and he hit the steering wheel angrily with open hands. “You girls are my life and I wouldn’t want to live without you,” he sniffed, “It’s hard enough having Hermione missing, we don’t know if she’s even alive and I feel so helpless. Then you go and do this! I’m beyond enraged about this,” he tried to keep his voice under control for Ayla’s sake.

“Please don’t say that, my baby’s not dead, she can’t be dead, I won’t believe it,” Monika wept, her hands covering her face.

Wendell glanced in the rear-view mirror and thankfully Ayla was happily oblivious to their row, singing along to something she was listening to on the headphones.

“Monika, I’m going to close the surgery early for our summer holiday. I can’t concentrate with Hermione gone and I can’t trust you not to gallivant around the countryside putting our granddaughter in danger. I just don’t understand this, you’re usually so level-headed. I don’t know what possessed you to go to a stranger’s home like that.”

“I know it was reckless, but I needed hope, I wanted someone to tell me I’ll get my daughter back. Are you so hard hearted that you don’t understand that Wendell?” Monika knew she’d crossed the line when she said that. Wendell was the furthest from hard hearted that a man could be, he was a big softie inside and she knew it.

His jaw was set, and his eyes blazed as he replied. “I’ll forget you said that. You’re upset and recovering from whatever that stupid woman drugged you with,” he sighed, placing a hand over hers, “I still think we should have called the cops on her.”

“I know but how would we explain what Ayla did to her? The woman was out cold, and they would’ve known I was in no position to do that to her, the state I was in.”

“Yes, well, I’m not going to let this lie, I will find a way to make her pay for trying to hurt my family.” He ground his teeth, something he only did under severe stress. As a dentist it was something he avoided at all costs.

The rest of the drive was silent as Wendell drove Monika to the doctors for a check- up. She told the doctor she had taken a funny turn and he advised rest and drink lots of fluids, advising her to stay out of the heat.

Neither spoke to each other once they got home. The stress of everything was all too much and they didn’t want to upset Ayla by arguing again.

Wendell spent the next few days painting the deck in the backyard and watching Ayla, while his wife rested after her ordeal.

A few neighbours popped by to ask if there was any news and he spent some time sitting on the front porch drinking a beer with Alf. They didn’t speak much but Wendell felt a sense of camaraderie with the man who cared what happened to his only daughter.

That night, Ayla cried out in her sleep and he collected her from her room, taking the child into bed with them. He didn’t sleep, eventually getting up before dawn to do some research on the internet. There must be a way to get a message to the wizarding world without putting them in further danger, there just had to be.

……………

**Cape Town, SA – Present Day**

Draco followed the directions and walked around all the places the Unit had pinpointed and revisited all the locations they said they had checked. He didn’t trust those idiots to be thorough.

He was exhausted as he entered the suburb of Ottery. He stopped on main street and something occurred to him. Could Potter possibly have been so stupid as to stay in a place similarly named to where the Weasley burrow was back in England - Ottery St. Catchpole?

He was hungry after a day on foot, apparating wherever he could but walking a fair distance regardless. The smell of pizza met his nostrils and his stomach growled. Muggle pizza was better than nothing.

As he walked to the door, he noticed they offered a delivery service and got chatting with the young female owner. He switched on the Malfoy charm and began to tell her a story about how he was there to see his cousin, but he’d lost his address along with his luggage at the airport. As he wove the tale, the young woman stopped as he described his cousin, around five foot eight, green eyes, black hair and round glasses.

“Oh, yes, I think I know the man,” she began to tap the keys of the computer, “he orders frequently, I’ve delivered to him myself. He’s living in a place near China Town, the Industrial park,” she said in a cool, clipped accent. “In fact, he’s just ordered, wow, what a coincidence,” she grinned.

“That’s great, I can take it to him.” He swiped a red hat with the logo of the pizzeria from behind the counter when she went off to see if the pizza was ready.

Draco thanked Amahle profusely and she even offered him a lift, which he declined gracefully. With her written directions he left the pizzeria, shoving one slice into his mouth and dumping the rest in an outside bin. He kept the box and began his walk the few blocks to China Town.

He had him, he fucking had him, and Potter should be bloody grateful he wasn’t there for his hide. After all these years it had been this simple.

……………..

Harry slept for ten hours before he was woken by his grumbling belly. Half-starved he called for a pizza before jumping into the shower, in an attempt to wake up.

He was just wrapping a towel around him when someone knocked on the door. He peered through the door viewer and saw a man wearing a red cap with Fernando’s logo on it. He took out some muggle Rand and enough for a generous tip before opening the door.

“Thanks for being so quick, I’m absolutely…” He dropped the money to the floor and some coins tinkled and they rolled and stopped at the man’s feet. He was unarmed and royally fucked. Draco Malfoy stood before him, as large as life.

Malfoy opened the pizza box and took out his wand, “Now, don’t do anything rash, Potter, oddly, I’m not here to hurt you.”

Harry just stood there with his mouth agape, before suddenly reaching for a crossbow he had stored for emergencies next to the door and holding it up. Letting an arrow fly, he soon found Malfoy had cast a shielding charm and the arrow just dropped to the floor.

“Less of the dramatics, Potter, there really is no escape and as I already told you, I’m not here to harm you. I’ve got a message from Granger.”

“N-No, that’s not possible, she’s…” Harry held the crossbow in his hand, willing to use it to smash Malfoy in the head if required.

“Well, let’s just say, she regained her memory and is rather pissed off with you,” Draco drawled, looking bored and leaning against the doorframe.

Harry just gawked at Malfoy, he had nothing else to hand to protect himself, so he conceded and took a step back. His wand was with his clothes on the other side of the room.

“I’ll die before I let you take me,” he said with gusto.

Draco sighed melodramatically, “Do all Gryffindor’s have this ingrained inability to listen, or is it just you and Granger? Surely you must know if I wanted to kill you, then you’d be dead by now. Don’t make this difficult.”

“If you’re not here to kill me or take me to he who shall not be named, then why the fuck are you here?”

This was getting old quickly and Draco felt annoyance swirl in his gut.

“As I said, I’m here to talk to you, Granger sent a message. Yes, its only something you would know, no, it wasn’t given under duress or fear, far from it, and yes, she’s safe. Now, will you let me in?” He held out his hands in question.

“I must be mental,” Harry muttered to himself as he stepped back and allowed Malfoy to enter.

“You look like shit, Potter,” Draco sniped as he checked the room for further weapons, pulling apart a pile of Potters clothes and finding his wand almost immediately. He holstered his own and sat in a threadbare east chair near the clouded windows. “Do you have anything that passes for good booze in this hell hole? I think you’ll need a drink for this,” Draco commented.

Harry searched for the bottle of vodka he kept for cleaning wounds in an emergency, he rarely drank as it wasn’t safe to leave himself vulnerable. It seemed none of that mattered now. Handing it to Malfoy, he watched him grimace at the label, but he still cracked it open and took a long swig, coughing and making a face.

“You’re not as hard to find as you think, Potter,” Malfoy observed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and passing him the bottle.

Harry’s stomach growled, “I suppose it was too much to expect for you to bring my bloody food, you prick.”

“Oh, you’re so disagreeable when you’re hangry, Potter,” Draco teased, “Apologies. Just call for another but do say your cousin found you and had eaten most of the pizza before he got here. Tell Amahle thanks.”

Harry got on the phone and called the Pizzeria, repeating what Malfoy said through gritted teeth. He needed food more than alcohol as his stomach felt like it was beginning to eat itself.

So, it was Amahle who’d almost got him killed. He knew he’d stayed in one place too long this time. People began to notice things, got to know you if you stayed too long. It was something he’d always told himself, although he’d had little choice this time with Death Eaters blocking his escape routes.

Harry swigged more of the bottle and it settled acidly on his empty stomach. “Spill it, then, tell me why you’re here.”

“Ah, that’s the eternal question, isn’t it, Potter? Why am I here…I need you,” he clipped simply, tapping his fingers on the arm of the chair.

“Malfoy, much as that’s flattering, you’re not my type, especially not with black hair, what the hell is that all about?” Harry didn’t know where the banter came from, perhaps the cheap vodka swimming in his bottomless pit of a stomach.

“Indeed,” Malfoy raised an eyebrow, “Now we’ve got that childish retort out of the way, I’m here because you are going back to finish off the Dark Lord and I am going to help you.” Draco didn’t think he could put it more succinctly than that.

Harry threw his head back and let out almost hysterical laughter. “You cannot be serious, Malfoy,” he said when he’d recovered somewhat, wiping his eyes with the backs of his hands, “You and me? I don’t even know where to start with how stupid that sounds,” he took another swig from the bottle and passed it back to Malfoy, “I think you’re off your rocker.”

“I realise this sounds a little…farfetched, but think about it Potter, I can get you in, I have a man on the inside, plus I know the Dark Lords movements, have access to books you haven’t ever seen or heard of, even better than those at Hogwarts. I know where the final Horcrux is and I’m working on how to break down the wards surrounding it.”

Harry went quiet at this. So, Malfoy didn’t know he was one of the two remaining Horcruxes. It had been Hermione’s suspicion and she had told him she knew during the final battle. The fact he’d escaped but they had still lost didn’t really matter as he would still need to die for all this to end, whenever it may be. Furthermore, they needed to destroy Rowena Ravenclaw’s diadem. This little plan of Malfoy’s was madness, why was he even entertaining it?

“Why would I trust you? You can’t tell me you’ve decided to defect now, all these years down the line? What is it, did ickle Malfoy not get his dues? Do you have a grudge against your lord and master for not playing fair, diddum’s,” Harry taunted.

Draco ran his fingers through his hair, then massaged his temple with his fingertips. “It’s a long story. Suffice to say, I’ve fallen in love with Granger, she has a daughter that is mine and I want to keep them safe. That’s all you need to know. She told me that if I described a wreath to you, one of white Christmas roses she placed on your parents grave in Godrick’s Hollow, then you would believe me.” Draco continued to keep it simple, there was no use in complicating things.

Harry stood and began to pace the room. He must have acquired that knowledge from Hermione using Veritaserum or under the Cruciatus curse, there was no way she’d tell a soul about it, even Ron didn’t know. It was personal; private.

“What did you do to her!” He yelled, “She would never tell, never!”

Draco crossed his legs in the chair, looking haughtier than ever. “Potter, she told me because it’s true. She said you must have a way to contact the other Order members, that you’d need them to help with this. I’m not in the habit of lying. I’m many things, I was a thug, a bully and I’ve killed now, because I had no choice, but the only time in my life I ever lied was when I didn’t tell my father and aunt who you were in Malfoy Manor,” he sighed, tired of explaining himself to everyone and battling to make them understand, “I’m not lying about this.”

“I can’t take this in. Hermione is a mother? The child is yours? How old is this child?” Harry clenched his fists, he wanted to beat the shit out of Malfoy for daring to touch Hermione.

“At the final battle we were trapped, one thing led to another, we thought we were going to die. I’m sure I don’t need to explain the ins and outs to you, Potter. She became pregnant and you whisked her away to an oblivious life in Australia. I was sent to assassinate her; it’s what I’ve been doing for the past five years. She was a schoolteacher in Bunbury, Western Australia. Ayla, our daughter is five and Hermione lives with her parents Monika and Wendell Wilkins. It was not until I took her from her home and used magic that she regained her memory. She had no wand and no memory of her magic until then.”

“You took her? Kidnapped her with the intension of murdering her then? You wanker! You absolute fucking bastard!” Harry moved quickly, grabbing Draco by the collar and punching him full on in the face.

Draco pushed him back and he fell on the bed. “Fuck! What is it about you lot and wanting to punch me in the face? You get that one for free. I only allow it as you feel some sense of righteous indignance that I dared to touch your friend,” he wiped the blood from his nose with his sleeve, “but punch me again, Potter and you’ll see what I’m truly capable of,” he sneered. He’d expected Potter to have at least one crack at him and it wasn’t broken, so he was feeling generous and didn’t thump him back.

“I see the old Malfoy is still in there,” Harry narrowed his eyes, “and that wasn’t just for Hermione. Tell me who you’ve killed? I know many of the Order were alive the last time we messaged, so who have you slaughtered since?” He spat.

“Some people of little consequence in the larger scheme of things. I will not name them, they’re gone now. Can’t you see I’m giving you the chance to end this life as a fugitive, I’m trying to give you your life back. You can marry the female Weasley, have a family. It doesn’t have to be like this anymore. All you have to do is trust me.”

“Then take me to Hermione, I’ll believe you when she tells me herself.”

“You drive a hard bargain, Potter.” Draco didn’t want to put Hermione in danger by bringing Potter to her, but if that’s what it took, he would do what needed to be done. He already knew that Hermione would be deliriously happy to see her old friend again and he would make this work with Potter as a means to an end. Anyway, he was desperate to see her again. With all there was to do, he wasn’t sure if he would see her for weeks or even months.

“Then I’ll take you to her and once you’re satisfied she’s telling the truth, I’ll make an unbreakable vow that I will never give you up to the Dark Lord, does that satisfy you, Saint Potter?”

Harry took in a deep breath, releasing it slowly. “I suppose it’ll do for now,” he nodded, ruffling his hair and looking for some trousers.

“Then get your stuff, I have a portkey ready.”

As the two held on to the gawdy silver broach, there was a knock on the door. The pizza had arrived.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The End of Chapter 11:  
> “Then I’ll take you to her and once you’re satisfied she’s telling the truth, I’ll make an unbreakable vow that I will never give you up to the Dark Lord, does that satisfy you, Saint Potter?”  
> Harry took in a deep breath, releasing it slowly. “I suppose it’ll do for now,” he nodded, ruffling his hair and looking for some trousers.  
> “Then get your stuff, I have a portkey ready.”  
> As the two held on to the gaudy silver broach, there was a knock on the door. The pizza had arrived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your comments on chapter 11, I promise I'll get to them asap. The general consensus was noting poor Harry didn't get his pizza, lol.
> 
> Thanks to my awesome beta @Riverrr for her hard work on this story, and the amazing @Mimifreed and @samadiw for their beautiful artwork. Also to everyone who has commented or contacted me over on Tumblr, you are all awesome, please don't stop letting me know what you think.
> 
> I apologise for this weeks chapter being late, Uni has been killing me and I've got exams after Christmas. I will, however, try to post my usual update on Christmas day if I can.

_Evil enters like a needle and spreads like an oak tree_

\- Ethiopian Proverb

**The Safe House, Bunbury, WA – Present Day**

“Oh, you’re back, does that mean you couldn’t find him?” Hermione peered over her shoulder as a shadow fell over her book. She was on the sun lounger, wearing a wide-brimmed hat and a tiny bikini. She could smell Draco’s cologne a mile off but couldn’t see him under the brim of the hat.

“Well, it looks like someone’s enjoying herself, and wearing very little, I see. I think you need to put on one of those granny cardigan’s you used to wear before you catch your death, Hermione.” A familiar voice said.

Her stomach clenched as she heard the voice of a wizard she hadn’t seen in five, long years. Someone she thought might be dead. Ripping her hat off, she almost fell off the sun lounger in her haste to throw herself into his arms.

“Harreeeeiiii!” She screeched, laughing, and crying at the same time.

Draco frowned, Hermione was rather too underdressed for his liking, even if the two were just friends. He grabbed a kimono style wrap from the back of her lounger and hovered behind them.

Harry couldn’t fall in with his old friend without being sure she was who she said she was. With her memory loss, he just hoped she would be able to remember what he was about to ask.

“Tell me, Hermione, what was inside Bathilda at Godrick’s Hollow?” He spoke clearly into her ear as he pointed his wand at her neck. At this point in his life, he wasn’t willing to risk anything.

Draco moved to stop him, but Potter gave him a warning look, he tutted and stepped back a little. Potter may be many things but he wouldn’t hurt Hermione.

She pulled back to stare at him, her eyes darting from side to side, her smile dissipating, “Why, Nagini of course.”

“Finite Incantatum,” Harry voiced, finding she was under no spell.

“And you too,” she reluctantly held her wand aloft, “what curse did I use that damaged your wand in Godrick’s Hollow?”

Harry peered at her wand curiously and answered, “You used a blasting curse to repel the snake, you only told me later it was broken,” he replied.

With that over, Hermione instantly returned to her excited state.

“I can’t believe it’s really you! I thought I’d never see you again! I’m sorry, I didn’t think you might not believe it was me, I-I didn’t think....” Her excited demeanour failed her, and tears began to fall and soak Harry’s shirt. She quickly scrubbed them away from her eyes, she refused to spend her time sobbing when her best friend had just walked back into her life after five years. He was being cautious and so he should be, he was a wanted fugitive and it had been a long time since she’d even thought about that night at Godrick’s Hollow, let alone remembered it.

“You look well, Hermione, I see being detained here at Malfoy’s mercy has done you good,” Harry replied, glowering at Malfoy over her shoulder.

“Now, now, play nicely. Malfoy’s been good to me. I’ll admit it didn’t start out like that, but he never stood a chance against my tirade of abuse,” she tittered. “Anyway, we’ve come to an arrangement and made a plan. Draco must have told you?” She slapped Harry’s arm gently.

“Draco now, is it?” he eyed her. “Yeah, but I don’t believe his intentions for one minute, I’m not sure how you could either?” He ruffled his hair with his hand in agitation.

Hermione turned and looked to Draco, taking the offered robe, slipping into it, and tying the belt. “Are you okay? You look tired,” she took out her wand, smiling as she returned his hair to his trademark blonde, “there, much better,” she pronounced.

Potter’s guilty look when he saw her wand hadn’t been lost on Draco and he watched his every move.

“All the better for seeing you, Princess,” he kissed her forehead, drawing her into his arms for a brief moment.

“Well then, we’ve got a lot of catching up to do, you must be famished,” she grinned, almost skipping to the outdoor dining area. 

“Words cannot express how hungry I am,” Harry bemoaned.

“Yeah, I can account for the fact he didn’t get his last meal,” Draco smirked.

“Fuck off, Malfoy.”

“Excellent. Tristan is about to serve dinner,” Hermione clapped her hands gleefully, “I’ll just let him know we have one more,” she disappeared into the house.

Harry sat down at the table, instantly snagging some breadsticks and chewing on them greedily, while Draco poured himself a glass of wine and then begrudgingly filled his glass too.

“You’re lucky she remembered what you asked, Potter, her memories have been hazy at times. Though, I’ll warn you now,” he leaned closer, “you’ll never draw your wand on her again or I’ll fucking kill you, whether you’re needed to end that flat-nosed megalomaniac or not,” Draco growled.

Harry sighed. He’d expected some fallout from his actions. “Hermione knows the score. It was a way the Order used to detect those who might be polyjuiced or under the Imperius. I’m not the one who might hurt her though, am I, Malfoy?” Harry munched angrily on his breadstick, devouring it, and taking another.

“Circe, Potter, do you really think I’d do that after everything I told you?” Draco shook his head, shooting him a malevolent look, similar to the one he’d used at school.

“A leopard never changes its spots,” Harry replied.

“If you think I don’t know what a Leopard is, then you’re more delusional than I thought. I’ve been in and out of the muggle world for the past five years, so don’t pull that shit with me,” he hissed.

Both were rearing forward passing each other dangerous looks as Hermione returned.

“Tristan said they have plenty prepared, we’ll start with brie and caramelised pear tart.” She patted Harry’s shoulder as she passed, accepting her seat from Draco who’d leapt up to push her chair in. She turned and touched his arm gratefully, feeling giddy and happy that she had Harry there.

Harry watched the exchange and rolled his eyes. This day had certainly been a strange one so far and if anyone would have told him yesterday that Hermione and Malfoy would be a couple, let alone have a child together, he’d have told them to sod right off.

“Where have you been? What happened after the war? Oh, gosh, just start at the beginning,” Hermione asked enthusiastically.

Beginning a tale of hundreds of cities and Houdini like escapes, Harry filled in the gaps of the past five years calmly as dinner was served. Nobody would think that under the surface he was in turmoil over the current situation or that he didn’t trust Malfoy one iota.

Taking a large bite of tart, Harry said sombrely, “Seriously, I don’t know if any of us would’ve survived without your plan of action. I know I dismissed it at first because I thought we’d win, but in all honesty, you saved our lives with your losing strategy, so many lives. That was before blondie here began to pick them off.” He gave Draco a sneer.

Draco paused, setting his cutlery down and squeezing the bridge of his nose. “Potter, if you have anything to say, then do come right out and say it.”

Harry leapt to his feet, unable to keep his dander in check, “You fucking kidnapped my friend, Malfoy, you killed countless Order members, how else should I react?” He shouted.

Tristan came rushing outside, along with two of Draco’s security men. Draco held up his hand for them to stay where they were.

“Mr Riddle, is everything alright? It’s not the food is it?” Tristan asked urgently.

“No Tristan, guys, just leave us, Potter has a right to tell me what he thinks of me, though I thought he may have had the manners to wait until after dessert.”

Draco wasn’t sure if this may escalate into violence, but he was sure his staff would be better off inside if it did, he didn’t want a gun going off and Hermione getting hurt.

“Fucking, Riddle. That’s what you’ve been calling yourself? Did you know that Hermione? Did you know he’d called himself Riddle in tribute to that murdering bastard?”

Hermione was up and standing between them by now, pushing both back with flat palms as they reared forward.

“Please, don’t do this, just try to be civil, for me,” she begged, “we have so much to discuss and very little time before Draco is missed.”

“Tell me, Malfoy, how did you do it? She’s not under the Imperius and nothing else revealed when I checked, so come on, spill how you have her under your control,” Harry yelled, his body taut and keyed up.

“Potter, you are so far from the truth it's not fucking funny. Do you believe a witch like Hermione could ever be controlled? Or perhaps that’s why you hit her with that memory charm and sent her on her merry little way to oblivion?” Draco bellowed, wanting to strangle Potter. The precarious camaraderie he’d shown to get him to Australia was wearing thin and he’d just about had it with the accusations. He’d already informed Potter who he was and what he’d done, it was time for boy wonder to admit his own failings.

Harry gasped. How the hell did Malfoy know about that? “You were watching us all along! You saw me send her away!” His eyes dropped to Hermione who had taken a step back.

“Please, Hermione, I…” Harry blurted, holding his hands out to her.

Hermione shook her head, no, no, no, Harry wouldn’t do that to her.

“I was watching you because I made a sodding pact with Granger not to kill anyone that day, I was watching her back!” Draco roared, his voice echoing around the land surrounding them and sending parakeets flocking from the trees.

“Harry, you didn’t?” Hermione looked up at the boy, now the man she’d trusted with her life, not wanting to believe he would do that to her. Her eyes were swimming with tears as she moved further away from them, before turning and hightailing into the house.

“Fucking great, Potter, now look what you’ve done,” Draco spat.

“Oh, it was me, was it? Not the blithering snake who just blurted it out,” Harry sniped back.

“Yeah, well it wasn’t me who did it to her, was it? I was the one who restored her memories,” he smirked nastily.

“Inadvertently! You fucking abducted her and held her against her will, so tell me, who is bloody worse?” Harry had Malfoy’s shirt collar in his hands, yanking him and ready to throw a punch.

Hermione rushed into the house, her fists clenched and angry tears seeping down her cheeks. She felt the bitter sting of betrayal but soon realised, whatever they’d done, she now had her memory back and they had no time for this male pissing contest. Her issues with Harry could be dealt with later. Turning on her heel, she wiped her face with her fingertips, set her sternest look and returned, fully intending to put a stop to their fighting, sensible to the last.

“Enough!” Hermione shrieked, watching them arguing like bickering old ladies over the last cake at a bake sale.

Both men stopped and looked at her. Harry’s hands were on Draco’s collar and Draco’s hands were around his throat.

“Just, enough,” she said, her voice returning to a normal level, “I haven’t forgiven either of you for what you did, but that can be dealt at a more appropriate time. For now, we will work on our plan and put our differences aside, for the greater good.” She felt anything but calm, but if she could get through this, then so could they.

“But—” Harry began.

“No,” she said firmly, “I said that’s enough. Let’s retire to the study and talk tactics.”

……………

**Nott Manor – Present day**

Theo looked up with blurred eyes as a myriad of colours sparkled through the tall, gothic windows of the Nott family library. He’d spent almost twenty-four hours in the blasted place and had found nothing about Horcruxes, although there were innumerable texts regarding wards. He was currently flicking through a book called, Unyielding Protection, The Forbidden Art of Wards by Arkwright Eastaughffe.

Thumping the book down, he banged his head lightly on the desk, he needed the blessings and energy of Merlin to get through over five-hundred books in that section alone.

Trudging to the dome-shaped liquor cabinet, portraying a map of the stars, he poured himself a large Fire whiskey before returning to the desk.

Flicking through the tomb before him idly, his less than sharp eyes, noted a dog- eared page towards the back of the book.

Instantly flicking to page 1603, he began to read. The page held a warning to those who read on, telling of dangerous methods and the possibility of lost souls. He snorted; the Dark Lord was well past that. Eagerly he scanned on further, could he have found what he was looking for? Could it be as easy as that?

If it was, then he just had to wait for Draco’s return to find a way to access the diadem.

**…………………..**

**The Safe House, Bunbury, WA – Present Day**

It was midnight before another argument had broken out again over Hermione and she was surprised they lasted that long. 

“I’ll find somewhere safe for Hermione and Ayla,” Draco pointed a quill at Harry.

“No, absolutely not! I don’t trust you,” Harry slammed his hand on the desk.

“There’s no way Hermione is coming along, she’s the mother of my child and the love of my fucking life! Do you think I’d allow her anywhere near that git? Don’t you remember the last time she was in the same room as my aunt? The mental bitch carved her up like a prized Christmas turkey! She was just lucky that bastard wasn’t there at the time.”

“For Godrick, Merlin and Circe’s sake, will you stop talking about me like I’m some possession!” Hermione threw her hands up in exasperation, “I want to help but I won’t leave Ayla without her mother for any longer. The way you two are going on, it looks like it might be months before you can undertake an attack and that’s because you’re butting heads and not working together.”

“Hermione, I beg you,” Draco dropped to his knees, taking her hands in his, “please let me send you, Ayla and your family to the estate we discussed in Ireland. Go tomorrow, then at least I can spend a day or so with you before I need to leave. You’re the brains behind this plan, we need you safe. I can send Theo to you with all manner of books and texts because it’s closer to London, you can talk to him about what he’s found,” he dared to reach up and brush a tendril of hair behind her ear.

Hermione knew Draco was trying to pacify her and the way he’d described her to Harry did funny little things in her tummy, sending her heart into an Irish jig. She was going to stay with her daughter because it was right at this moment, after all, she wouldn’t go gallivanting into battle and leave her daughter motherless. Besides, she knew someone needed to replace the strategic minds the Order had lost, like Moody, Remus, and Kingsley. She knew, without a linchpin and someone to make the difficult decisions, the plan was sure to fail. Someone had to lead and with Draco and Harry at each-others throats it would be her, she knew it.

“Alright, I’ll go, but you’ll need to convince my parents, who are doubtless frantic by now and if they say they’ll go with me and Ayla, then we’ll leave.”

“Good luck with that, Malfoy, I’m sure they bloody hate you,” Harry crossed his arms, “and they wouldn’t be the only ones,” he muttered under his breath.

“Look, please stop this, you’re both on the same side now. I don’t want to hear any more of this rubbish if you want me to mastermind this attack. So, let’s get back to it.”

Hermione pulled out the list they’d drawn together, smoothing it out on the desk with her hands as the pair scowled at one another.

“Right, so Draco will leave in a day or so and suss out the present situation with Nott and the wards surrounding the diadem. Harry, you’ll begin contacting everyone from the Order and we’ll work out a safe and secure point of conversion, Draco will purchase you a new computer to do so and see to portkeys for you to arrange a top-secret meeting. At this point, we agree that only you two will enter he who shall not be named’s home once we know we can destroy the diadem. The muscle will come in the form of remaining Order members and anyone else we can convince to join us. Draco, if you think you can chance getting anyone else on our side who won’t rat you out to him, then please do so. We will move to the estate in Ireland and begin to set up our centralized communications base. Is that clear?”

Both men nodded. In basic theory, the plan could work, but many other factors needed to be considered and Hermione would need constant updates.

“Now, I think sleep is in order,” Hermione yawned, stretching her arms, “I’ll show you to the guest room, Harry.”

“I’m not sure if I can sleep, but I’ll try. Tomorrow we begin.” Harry caught her yawn, letting out a puffing sigh.

Draco sauntered into the lounge, pouring three tumblers of fire whiskey.

“It might help you sleep,” Draco handed Harry a glass, “and for what it’s worth, I’m glad to have you onboard, Potter.”

Harry met his eyes and realised Malfoy meant it, the earlier bitterness and indignation were gone and what was left was almost a friendly look. He knew Malfoy was offering an olive branch, and after Hermione’s earlier telling off, he thought it best to accept it. “Thank you, goodnight Malfoy.”

Draco stood in the hallway, sipping his drink, and watching as the two old friends scaled the stairs, chattering together. He knew he’d need to get Potter onside or no plan in the world would work.

Tipping back his drink, he poured another and wandered up to his room, hearing Hermione and Potter’s murmuring voices from the spare room. Apart from being under the Dark Lord’s thumb, working with Potter was probably his worst nightmare. The old school rivalry had reared its ugly head already and they were at each other’s throats instantly, more because of Hermione and her welfare than anything else. He supposed he’d need to be the bigger man and let that go, but it was damn hard when he knew Potter didn’t trust him. He understood. Realistically Draco could easily dump Potter in the Dark Lord’s lap and reap the benefits but he’d spent a lot of time thinking about the way the world was and he knew he wouldn’t be able to carry on for much longer. He’d thought about getting out many times over the years and now that opportunity had been gifted him in the petite shape of the witch he’d grown to adore and a little girl who may never accept him as her father.

Not many things scared him now, but the thought of meeting his daughter petrified him. He was already steeling himself for their meeting and the possibility she would hate him.

He slid into bed, wondering whether Hermione would go to her room tonight. They’d had sex but that didn’t mean she would be eager to jump into bed at any given opportunity, so he resigned himself to sleeping alone. He’d left his door ajar in case she decided to come to him.

…

“Hermione,” Harry hissed, “You can’t be serious about Malfoy, he could be playing you, he might be doing all this so he can send us all to our deaths and make himself look like the heroic assassin who tracked us all down. This plan doesn’t sit well with me at all.”

“Then you’ll just have to trust my judgement, Harry. I know he’s sincere, I can’t tell you how, but there’s something different about him. He told me he loves me,” she sat gingerly on the edge of the bed in Harry’s room, pulling at a stray piece of cotton on her robe.

“I don’t think I can work with him; you saw us, we were on the verge of beating the living daylights out of each other earlier,” Harry clenched his fists and tried to calm down.

“Then why are you here? He told you what he wanted from the very beginning; you could’ve said no.”

“Yes, because being half-naked and wandless was conducive with saying no to a Death Eater,” Harry said sardonically. He closed his eyes, his hand rubbing the nape of his neck. “I’m here for you because I wanted to make sure you were okay and, yes, I suppose I hoped this could work, but after a few hours in his company I’m wondering whether I’d just rather go back on the run.”

Hermione’s eyes were wide as she looked up at her best friend. “You can’t mean that?”

Harry plonked down beside her on the bed and took her hand in his, “No, I suppose I don’t.”

He thought back to his never-ending life on the run from Voldemort’s minions and how easily Malfoy had found him. He’d become sloppy and would be caught eventually. No, better to do this and die trying than spend the rest of his life being hunted.

“Hermione, look, about the day of the battle…” he tried again, hoping she wouldn’t dismiss him as she had earlier.

She squeezed his hand, laying her head on his shoulder.

“I know you did what you thought best, but your actions have lost me over five years of my life, I had no clue of my past during all that time.”

“But your parents, they would’ve known, didn’t they tell you?” Harry was aghast that her parents hadn’t filled in the gaps in her memory.

“I’m so angry with them I could spit, but I suppose they thought they were doing what was best for me. An awful lot of people seem to do that, apart from Draco. He asked me to go to Ireland, but I know if I truly wanted to come with you, he would accept I’m a powerful witch in my own right. All I can say for now is that I’m past having others make decisions for me, I will do what I see fit and nobody will stop me,” she said, resigned.

Harry nodded, “If it’s any consolation, I cast the memory charm for you, because I love you. I did it so that one day you might be able to live a better life than I could dream of, and you did, for a while.”

She was his best friend and he’d wanted that for her.

“Well, I can’t thank you for it but don’t lose any sleep over it now,” she stood and kissed his forehead, “we can talk more when we have time. I need to sleep before I drop. Night Harry.”

He stood and pulled her close for a hug.

“Goodnight, Hermione.”

…

Hermione tiptoed towards Draco’s room, wondering if he might be asleep. He was pale and drawn, with rings under his eyes when he arrived home.

His door was ajar, and she moved quietly to the edge of his bed, pausing when she saw him lying on his side in the dim light.

As she was about to return to her room, he shifted over in his bed and pulled the covers open for her.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He said groggily.

She smiled, though it was unlikely he’d see her in the low light, “I, um, wondered if you’d like some company, just to sleep?” She murmured, getting in before he replied.

“I always want you by my side,” he swiftly pulled her into his arms, exhaling contentedly as she lay her head in his chest and inhaling the scent of her hair as her riotous curls tickled his nose.

“Thank you,” she murmured, rubbing small circles on his hip with her thumb.

“For what?” His eyes were already fluttering shut, his breath evening out.

“For trying,” she kissed the underside of his jaw.

“For you, anything,” he murmured as sleep claimed him.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end of chapter 12...  
> “I always want you by my side,” he swiftly pulled her into his arms, exhaling contentedly as she lay her head in his chest and inhaling the scent of her hair as her riotous curls tickled his nose.  
> “Thank you,” she murmured, rubbing small circles on his hip with her thumb.  
> “For what?” His eyes were already fluttering shut, his breath evening out.  
> “For trying,” she kissed the underside of his jaw.  
> “For you, anything,” he murmured as sleep claimed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the delay in this weeks chapter. I've got exams in January and may need to take a short hiatus on this story. I will try not to but I only have one more chapter pre-written left. Please stick with me if I do, as I've loved all your support and great comments.   
> A Merry Christmas to all who celebrate, and I hope everyone has a happier and healthy 2021. Love to you all! xx
> 
> Thanks to my awesome beta @Riverrr for her hard work on this story, and the amazing @Mimifreed and @samadiw for their beautiful artwork. Also to everyone who has commented or contacted me over on Tumblr, you are all awesome, please don't stop letting me know what you think.

_It takes a whole village to raise a child._

\- African Proverb

**Bunbury WA - The Wilkins House**

“Ayla, darling, please come away from the window, I know you miss mummy but peering out there all day isn’t good for you, why don’t you play outside?” Monika called from the hallway.

Ayla placed her forehead on the glass wistfully and came out from behind the curtain, her soft dragon hanging by it’s tail in her hand, it’s beady eye staring ahead like it wasn’t at all impressed by being carried in that way. She missed her mummy so much and all day she’d had this funny feeling in her tummy that something was about to happen, especially when Pendragon, her stuffed Dragon had breathed real fire out of nowhere. She didn’t tell nana as she was afraid she was the one who’d caused it as she thought she might get into trouble. 

She’d felt so strange after what had happened that day with the nasty old woman who tried to hurt her nana. It was like she thought about pushing the woman away with her mind and her fingers tingled, then the horrible lady was flying across the room. That feeling in her fingers had never left and she was afraid to tell in case they sent her away for being naughty or a strange girl. Even she knew it wasn’t a normal thing to do.

About to leave the window and do as she was asked by her nana, Ayla noticed two men walking along the road, her interest instantly piqued when she saw a shock of blonde hair. Opening her mouth to scream to her nana that the man was back, that he was here to take another of their family, she closed it with a plop as she glimpsed her mothers wavy, chestnut hair, then her mummy’s face as she placed a hand on the blonde mans arm.

“Mummy!” She shrieked, running for the front door, “Mummy, mummy, mummy!” Ayla paused at the front door. She’d been told many times never to open the door without an adult present, but surely this was okay? Her mummy was on the other side.

“What’s all this screaming about?” Monika called from the other side of the house.

Ayla pulled hard on the door handle. It was far more difficult to open than she’d expected, especially as she could barely reach it. Pulling as hard as she could, her feet lifted from the floor as she hung from the handle and the door finally gave and opened.

“Mummy!” She ran out into the front garden, heading right for her precious mother.

Then she saw him, the man.

“You get away from my mummy!” She screamed tearfully at Draco, who took a step back, holding his hands up in surrender. “You’re the man who took her away!”

Ayla didn’t like the man one bit, he was responsible for taking her mummy away and he wasn’t to get away with it by giving her back like nothing had happened. She wasn’t a toy to be borrowed! Mummy belonged to her and she wasn’t to be shared. So, Ayla did what any self respecting five year old would do and she ran across the grass and kicked the man in the shins.

“Oof, Granger, Jesus, your daughter is a menace.” He barked in pain, hopping on one foot.

Hermione rushed to try to catch the angry little girl, who was intend on having another go at Draco, dancing around him like a prize fighter, her small fists drawn at crotch level.

Ayla noticed the dark haired man with round glasses who was standing with her mother let out a gawfuw and she paused.

“Hermione, she’s so like you it’s almost unbelievable.” Harry shook his head in bewilderment.

“Ayla, darling, please calm down, leave Draco alone, it’s not what you think, sweetheart.” Hermione attempted to soothe her daughter.

“Make him go mummy, make him go, make him go, make him goooo!” She wailed as Hermione took her kicking and screaming child into her arms.

“It’s alright, mummy’s here,” Hermione found herself sobbing as she hugged her distraught child close, “I’m here and I’ll never leave you again, I promise.” She rocked her in an attempt to calm her down.

“Make him go,” she sobbed, clutching her mother’s neck tightly to keep her there.

Harry sidled up to Draco and commented sarcastically, “I assume you were hoping for better?”

“Fuck off Potter,” Draco hissed, rubbing his shin, his eyes on Hermione and their child. Of course he’d hoped for better, but if the girl was anything like he’d been as a child, forgiveness wasn’t coming soon.

Monika and Wendell arrived at the front door, drawn outside by the commotion.

“Ayla! Haven’t we told you not to…” The words died on Wendell’s lips as he surveyed the scene.

“Hermione!” Monika screamed, rushing to hug her daughter, swiftly followed by her husband who raced towards Draco.

“You! It was you! How dare you show your face around here you fucking bastard! You took my daughter!” Wendell, was at least a foot shorter than Draco but it didn’t stop him from launching a haymaker of a punch to Draco’s nose.

Draco staggered back, his hands covering his nose as blood sprayed down over his mouth and onto his shirt. “For fucks sake! What is it about you Grangers and your need to punch me in the face!” Draco howled. His hand itched to grab his wand from his pocket but instead he shook his head, it was all for Hermione that he didn’t draw his wand and hex her father.

A small crowd gathered as the neighbour’s heard the commotion, Alf, the kindly neighbour moving towards Wendell. “Bugger me, is this him? Is this the drongo who took your Hermione?” Alf began to close in on Draco.

“This is the son of bitch,” Wendell squared up for another go.

“Far be it for me to step in, Mr Granger, but this wont get us anywhere,” Harry decided to step in, to save Ayla from having to witness anymore violence than anything, “Come on, just hear him out, we can have a cold one and let Hermione tell you what happened. I promise you, we need to talk.” Harry bit out the last few words with a deliberate look of intent.

Wendell’s face went slack, suddenly noticing Harry’s presence.

“Harry, son, what are you doing here? I thought you were dead?” The older man instantly hugged him tightly then stepped away, both looking rather embarrassed.

Harry put it down to high emotions and clapped Hermione’s father on the shoulder and good naturedly took a handkerchief from his pocket, handing it to Draco to stem the flow of blood.

Draco mopped up the nose bleed as best he could. He knew he’d deserved that punch because if Hermione hadn’t been his target that day, the young woman he’d taken from this house would’ve been lost to their family for good and never seen again. For once he was part of the backlash, the consequences of his actions, and his stomach twisted painfully. How many families had lost loved ones because of him? How many grieved those who’d not returned to them? His daughters reaction to him hurt, although he deserved it and he wondered if she could ever learn to trust him. He was a shady and unscrupulous Death Eater and he thought about running for a moment.

“Alf is it?” Draco heard Harry speak to the neighbour, firefighting the situation, “I think you can see Hermione is fine and it’s all been a misunderstanding. I think the family just need some privacy for now, do you mind?”

Always so fucking polite, Draco fumed, but found himself grateful.

“Mr Granger…” Harry began.

“It’s Mr Wilkins, lad, they know us as the Wilkin’s,” Wendell corrected him with a whisper.

“Mr Wilkins, lets all go inside and talk.” Harry cajoled.

“Get stuffed! That child stealing blonde oaf wont cross my threshold!” Wendell bellowed.

Harry sighed deeply, taking his wand in hand in his pocket muttering under his breath, “Confundo.”

Wendell’s face went blank and he staggered, “I-I, I don’t feel well, where am I?”

Harry took his arm, speaking out loudly, “Oh, Mr Wilkins, lets get you inside, this has all been rather a shock for you.” He frog marched Hermione’s father into the house and sat him in a seat in the lounge, returning to collect the sobbing women and little girl. “Hermione, let’s go inside,” he ushered them up and supported them to the door, “Malfoy, come on.” He called over his shoulder.

Ayla opened her mouth to scream as Draco followed and Harry shut his eyes, his hand clutching his wand discreetly as he directed a silencing charm at the little girl. He felt terrible about it but this drama could no longer continue in the street for all to hear. One of them could slip and say something dangerous. As soon as the door closed he rescinded the spells on Wendell and Ayla immediately, casting a silencing charm.

“No, not him! Mummy, make him go away!” Ayla kicked and screamed against Hermione’s hold as Hermione sat down on the sofa, exhausted by the onslaught.

“What do you mean by bringing him here, Hermione, Harry? My granddaughter knows he’s the one who took her mother and for us to allow him into this house is abominable!” Wendell rose again with his fists up, heading for Draco.

“Daddy, no!” Hermione stood, her daughter with her arms wrapped around her neck, “No, you don’t understand, it isn’t like that!” Hermione moved in between them.

Draco stood back in shock as Ayla looked over Hermione's shoulder, her grey eyes filled with such hatred he felt appalled to be himself.

“Then tell me what it is like, because from where I’m standing, this man kidnapped you and you’re under his spell, he’s done something to you and I wont stand for it!”

Monika bypassed Hermione and walked right up to Draco, slapping his face.

Hermione immediately turned and pulled the back of her mothers shirt, “Mum, please, leave him alone, I love him, please don’t hurt him!”

All eyes shot to Hermione, including Draco’s. She felt scrutinised and blushed, ducking her head angrily from her lovers gaze. All this chaos was the last thing any of them needed, although she knew Draco deserved her familys wrath. She noticed Harry had disappeared, returning with the bottle of finest malt whiskey her father kept in the cupboard for emergencies. Wendell always said alcohol was just as corrosive on the teeth as anything else and they rarely had it in the house.

“Mr and Mrs Granger, lets sit and discuss this like adults, I know neither myself or Malfoy are perfect in all of this but we’d like a chance to explain.” Harry poured Wendell a shot and the man knocked it back, holding out a shaky hand for a refill.

“Harry, dear, oh, I’m sure you’re not as bad as this man, he stole our only child away from us!” Monika glared at Draco, accepting the glass of whiskey and sniffing it before taking a sip, she almosy choked on it but drank the dram down. 

Draco accepted a glass from Potter and wished he could drown himself in the bottle. His eyes remained on Hermione’s as she did everything but look him in the eye following her admission.

“I am, and I want you to sit down and if possible, I’d like you to avoid smacking me in the face too.” Harry removed his glasses and polished them with his t-shirt.

“We’re listening,” Wendell replied, his brown eyes steely as he watched Draco, who was frozen near the door.

“I want to tell you, but I’m not sure it’s for little ears.” Harry inclined his head towards Ayla, who was sucking her thumb while Hermione rocked and murmured to her, telling her everything was going to be alright.

Hermione didn’t want to hear the story, she knew she might break, might not be strong enough for what was to come if she allowed herself to hear what Harry had to say. After all, she’d already told him they would address what had happened once all this was over. She stood with her sleepy daughter in her arms and headed for Ayla’s room. Turning as she reached the doorway, she said in a low voice, “Please, try to keep your voices down and not beat Draco to a pulp.” She shot Draco a sympathetic look and disappeared.

…

“I want my favourite, Raising Dragons.” Ayla replied, tugging Hermione to her bed and pushing her mother’s rump so she stumbled and had no choice but to get into the bed.

Hermione watched as her daughter rounded the bed tucked her in, pulling the covers around her like a cocoon, struggling to pull the covers taut. Once she was satisfied, she settled on the outside of the covers, as if Hermione being tucked inside would keep her there for forever with Ayla as her watcher.

“So, now you’ve tucked me in, are you reading me a story, sweetheart?” Hermione tenderly brushed a few tendrils of her daughters hair away from her determined face. Hermione knew her daughter well, she was desperate and on the cusp of another meltdown. Hermione would never have her go through any of this if it wasn’t important and uprooting her was another reason why she would never leave her, never put her through a seperation again.

Ayla handed Hermione Pendragon and tucked him in beside her tenaciously. Her mummy would stay here, she would make her, she wouldn’t let the blonde man anywhere near her again. She retrieved the book from her nightstand, the one she wouldn’t allow her nana and grandpops read to her while her mummy was gone; it was their special book.

She began to read, “Pa didn’t know a thing about raising dragons. He raised corn and peas and barley and wheat,” Ayla let out a little hiccupping sob but continued to read as tears spilled from her eyes, “he raised sheep and cows and pigs and chickens. He raised just about everything we needed for life on our farm…”

Then the tears came full force and Hermione’s heart broke for her, pulling the covers back and taking her daughter into her arms.

“You cry, my baby, you cry and you let it all out, mummy’s here, I will never leave you again, I’m so sorry I wasn’t here, so sorry…”

…

“…and then I altered her memories using a charm,” a stray tear meandered down Harry Potters cheek and he smoothed it away with the heel of his hand before rubbing at the stubble on his jaw, “I wanted her to have a life, something none of us had. She had you and safety for Hermione was on the other side of the world in a country I knew wasn’t involved in the Wizarding War. I know it was wrong but she was hurt and she might not have survived if I hadn’t done something.”

Draco was silent, leaning against the door listening and watching, his arms crossed over his chest as Harry told the story of what happened during the final battle. At least the focus was on the golden boy for once and his bloody failings. He glanced towards his child’s bedroom, hearing her sobs, desperate to give her comfort that wasn’t his to give. He was a monster and if he wasn’t so selfish, he may have decided right then never to allow Granger to tell Ayla who her father was. It would avert the hurt and blame that was sure to come as she grew older and realised who he had been, who he was.

He noted Potter refilled the whiskey bottle several times with an incantation as he doled out more drinks to keep the peace. He had more respect for him as he kept the peace and told the Granger/ Wilkins what happened in the war.

“I’m sorry, so sorry, I took her life away from her and didn’t give her a choice, I just thought—I thought you’d tell her about her past.” Harry peered down into the glass of amber liquid he held in his hand with regret, “Now I’ve been on the run for all this time, I’ve had a lot of time to think about the decisions I made and that split second decision has weighed heavily on me for years.” He admitted.

Draco thought back to the day his father relieved him of his choice, the day he received the mark. He was told it was a huge honor and a huge responsibility but it ruined him and Hermione Granger had been the only one to save him. But it was too late, he’d done things he couldn’t take back.

His legs were shaking for standing so long, his nose hurt and there was still the barest tingle remaining on his cheek from Monika’s slap. He jolted when a question was directed at him.

“And what about you, boy? What was all this about?” Wendell’s gaze moved to Draco.

Harry shot him a compassionate look which surprised him.

Draco opened his mouth, unsure what to say for the best. Hermione’s father had called him boy, like he was a child. Well, this child was born in the dark and had spent his life residing in it. He ran his bloodstained fingers through tussled hair in silence, moving forward to request a refill of whiskey from Potter.

“During the war, I was on the wrong side from the beginning, made the wrong choices as a boy, you could say…”

Nobody noticed Monika rise. Shakily, she left the room and headed for the master bedroom, withdrawing Hermione’s broken wand and the coin she’d had around her neck the day she’d arrived bleeding, broken and pregnant on their doorstep from her bedside table. She ran her fingers over the splinters as she’d done a hundred times and returned to the lounge. She’d done exactly what Harry had done, she’d denied her daughter the knowledge of her past.

Angry with herself, she rushed into the kitchen, picking up a carving knife and returning to the living room, throwing the items on the coffee table.

“We did this! We let her think she was normal! We left her at the mercy of anyone who came for her. She was never at anyones mercy before she came here, even his!” She turned on Draco. “You were a bully, you said horrible, nasty things to her about her blood. I can only hope you have changed if she’s fallen in love with you, I truly hope you’re different, because if you aren’t I will gut you, whether she loves you or not!”

Harry regretted giving Monika so much alcohol at that moment and stood, holding his hands apart, waiting for a moment to grab the knife, swiftly followed by her staggering husband.

“Hermione’s my baby, mine!” She screamed at Draco, “I was in labour with her for sixteen hours and she’s special, too special to be hoodwinked! She’s ours! Don’t think I can’t see whose daughter Ayla is, I see her in your eyes, your bloody hair, I see her features when I look at you. Where were you when Hermione almost died giving birth? When she lost so much blood we thought she was a gonner? Why are you even here?” Monika placed the tip of the knife against his neck, “Because if you’re here to play daddy, then you’re too damn late, that ship has sailed without you! Wendell is more of a father to that child than you’ll ever be!”

Draco’s Adams apple bobbed, staring down at the mother of the woman he loved, his child’s grandmother. He admired her mettle and how she spoke her mind, even if she was absolutely clattered and baying for his blood.

“Because I love her, I’ve always loved her,” he rasped, “I know all of this is hard for you to accept but she knows I love her, she would have never brought me here and caused so much upset if she didn’t.”

Wendell was at Monika's side, hugging her close and removing the blade from her hand. “Darling, stand down, we haven’t heard why he did it. If the knife is needed we’ll use it then,” he chuckled, taking it from her and placing it on the table next to the broken wand and the coin on it’s chain. Wendell turned to Draco, “Come and sit down, you’re like the angel of death standing in the corner there,” Wendell gestured towards a spare seat on the sofa Hermione had occupied earlier.

Draco thought this an apt sentiment and moved tentatively to sit as far away from Monika as possible.

Harry topped Draco’s glass up and he gave him a nod, vanishing the knife covertly.

“Now you know about the war and how Hermione came to be here, I’ll tell you the truth,” Draco ran his finger along the edge of the glass taking a deep breath.

With that he told them the truth, about his part, and what he was sent to do. Minus the salacious parts, she was their daughter after all.

“I came here to kill her…”


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi to everyone following and apologies for the delay on this chapter. Exams are over but I'm still extremely busy with Uni right now.   
> We left the end of chapter 13 here...
> 
> “Now you know about the war and how Hermione came to be here, I’ll tell you the truth,” Draco ran his finger along the edge of the glass taking a deep breath.  
> With that he told them the truth, about his part, and what he was sent to do. Minus the salacious parts, she was their daughter after all.  
> “I came here to kill her…”
> 
> Thanks to my awesome beta @Riverrr for her hard work on this story, and the amazing @Mimifreed and @samadiw for their beautiful artwork. Also to everyone who has commented or contacted me over on Tumblr, you are all awesome, please don't stop letting me know what you think. I will get to your comments as soon as I can xxx

**_A man who uses force is afraid of reasoning._ **

**_\- Kenyan Proverb_ **

**Bunbury WA - The Wilkins House**

The following morning consisted of gathering clothing and effects they couldn’t part with as Hermione packed, using an extension charm on an old trunk they’d found in the attic. Ayla had wanted to bring every toy and book and was put out because her mother had restricted her to only half of what she owned because she’d grown out of most. Of course, the first book Hermione had been handed was Raising Dragons.

The morning had gone reasonably well, with all apart from Hermione nursing hangovers and seeking out painkillers.

Draco kept to the side lines, although he gratefully accepted some bacon and eggs and a large cup of coffee from an apologetic Monika, sitting across from his daughter and curling his lip in amusement as she shot him sneers that reminded him of himself as a child. Hermione had come to him for an hour before dawn looking exhausted and they’d kissed for a while before she left to return to Ayla before she woke. He’d felt better once she had come to him, like all was right with the world.

Monika fell over herself to be gracious when she was reminded by Wendell of her conduct the previous night. She knew it wasn’t like her to slap someone or take a knife to someone and was contrite to the point of grovelling to the man. Once he’d explained what happened in his life and how he and Hermione had grown to care for one another, she’d softened, although she still didn’t trust his intentions completely.

Ayla had somehow restrained herself to shooting Draco surreptitious looks and glowering at him when she caught his eye. Mummy had given her a talk about good manners that morning, asking her to give Draco a chance. She didn’t know why she had to be nice to the man who stole her mummy, he was a thief after all, he stole people’s mummies and took them away when they were needed for giving hugs, reading stories and all manner of things. Her mother had also told her that she was no longer a mamanesaic. She said she remembered everything, and that the man, Draco, was responsible for helping her get her memories back. When Ayla asked what she remembered, mummy had said she would tell her when she was older. Ayla tried coming back five minutes later, telling her mother that she was indeed now five minutes older, but her mummy shook her head and said she’d have to wait longer. Ayla was put out, and rightly so, she felt.

Wendell had taken Draco aside first thing and thanked him for what he was doing. He said he had his reservations about him, but that if he continued to do good then he would try to offer forgiveness, he felt he couldn’t yet for obvious reasons.

Draco found himself staring at Ayla, this tiny thing was his daughter, and he couldn’t get over how she was so tenacious, how she held onto a grudge but still wandered off and played with her dragon. His heart swelled with pride that such a child was his. These thoughts were blighted when he wondered if his own father felt the same way about him as a child. He knew Lucius loved him but there’s was a tenuous relationship once the Dark Lord returned, ending badly for them all. His hand shook as he sipped his coffee, the memory of his fathers agonised screams taking a visit via his Amygdala, his brain sending anxiety signals around his body. He closed his eyes for a moment, opening them once more when Hermione came to the kitchen with an armful of clothes, placing a soothing hand on his shoulder as she passed.

Hermione could see Draco was struggling. He’d never stayed in a muggle home before now, that much was certain, and she’d heard the muffled rows the night before, thanking Merlin for Harry’s calming presence. Placing down her pile, she accepted a cup of tea from her mother.

“So, when do we leave? I think I’ve almost got everything,” she sipped on her cup.

Draco opened his eyes to see Ayla had left the table.

“Where’s the child? She was here only a minute ago,” Draco asked.

Hermione’s eyes immediately darted to the open back door, “Shit!”

Draco was up on his feet within seconds as they heard a childish shriek, swiftly followed by a splash.

Hermione was right on his heels, “Oh, Godrick, the pool!” she screamed.

As soon as he got to the edge of the pool, he noticed the safety gate was open and Ayla’s stuffed dragon was floating on the surface. Swiftly pulling his t-shirt over his head he dived into the water his body breaking the surface like a hot knife on butter.

He saw his terrified daughter struggling and screaming as she tried to reach the surface and he pulled her close, using one strong arm to take them both to the top.

“Oh my god, is she alright?” Monika dropped to her knees along with Hermione as Draco pushed Ayla onto the tiles by the side of the pool. The child was shocked and tearful, but she was alright, just coughing up a little water thanks to Draco’s hasty efforts.

“Oh baby, my sweetheart, what has mummy told you about going near the pool? Never, never, never, without an adult,” Hermione hugged her tightly.

“B-but, Pendragon fell in, he was drownded,” Ayla responded, shivering as Hermione wrapped her in a towel a pale-faced Wendell handed her, the little girl’s eyes darting towards Draco as he stood over her with a tormented look upon his face, dripping water.

“Is she alright, Granger? Tell me she’s okay,” he asked desperately.

“She’s alright, thank the gods, and she’ll never go near water without an adult present again, will you darling?” Hermione said with a slightly stern voice that belied the tears running down her cheeks.

“Christ, what a morning.” Wendell rubbed his hand over his eyes, “the sooner the better we get away from that bloody pool, I just knew something like this would happen, she was always far too fascinated by the water.”

Harry patted the man on the back and let out a long breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding during the drama.

Hermione set Ayla on her feet, “Now, what do you say to Draco?”

Ayla’s lower lip wobbled, though her face gained a stubborn look.

“Ayla?” Hermione prodded.

“Thank you for saving me from drownding,” she said in a tiny voice, “Pendragon is still in the pool,” she pointed towards the floating soft toy.

Draco sighed and dove back into the pool smoothly, retrieving Pendragon and squeezing the water from his fur before handing him to Hermione.

As he pulled himself up the side of the pool, he noticed Hermione giving him a heated look and even her mother’s mouth was open wide, gawping at him as he exited the pool like something out of a diet coke ad.

“Close your mouth, dear, you’ll catch flies,” Wendell chuckled as he closed his wife’s mouth shut with a plop.

“Yeah, my bloody hero,” said Harry sardonically. 

……..

**The New Order HQ, Cork, Ireland – Present day**

To say the place looked a mess was an understatement. Hermione bit her lip with a frown as she helped Ayla up, hugging her to her chest. The little girl didn’t fair too well with portkey travel and by the looks of it her parents felt much the same, both with a green hue to their faces.

It had already been a long day, with the pool incident, and one thing Hermione was glad to see was there was no water nearby. She could, however, smell salty sea air and turning, she could see cliff’s in the distance. The view was stunning, the property surrounded by craggy hills and wild heather perfect for long walks and far enough off the grid that there was no other house in sight. The sun broke through the clouds and its rays cast deep into the valley below.

Draco disappeared around the back of the property to alter the wards and allow the others inside. His heart was still racing after the mornings events and he stopped for a moment, leaning on a wooden stile and taking several deep breaths. He’d almost lost his daughter before he had got a chance to know her and the thought horrified him. His mind took that moment to remind him of the type of person he was, a wizard who went around taking people’s lives, removing them from the bosom of their family. He was the angel of death, as Wendell had described him, and he wondered if anything he did from now on would ever be enough to redeem him.

Draco had been gone a while and Hermione handed Ayla to her mother and covered the little girl’s ears. “Just for now, could you keep her facing away from the house. I have a feeling once the wards are down the property may look much different.”

Currently there was a rundown shack beside a barn and a dilapidated cottage, surely Draco couldn’t intend for them to live there like hermits? She strode around the back of the property to find Draco almost hyperventilating.

“Draco? Whats wrong?” She hastily made her way to his side, clutching his face.

“I-I—What if I didn’t get there in time? What if she—” he stuttered, falling into Hermione’s embrace, “I’m a bad man, this is what muggles call Karma. What if it’s that? What if I’m never allowed to be happy because of what I’ve done? What if this is all an unattainable dream and we can’t kill him? That you and our daughter will be forced to live a nightmare for the rest of your lives because I didn’t have the guts to finish what I began.”

“You can and you will, we will. I’m here every step of the way, Harry will be too. Draco, it’s okay to be afraid,” she cupped his cheek, bringing his face down to look at her, “It’s alright to admit you have feelings and that you can’t find the strength to deal with what happened today. I know my tears are locked up inside along with the absolute horror of what could have happened this morning. That’s what it is, something which could have happened, but it didn’t because her father—” she brought up her other hand and held his face tenderly dropping kisses over his brow and cheeks, “her father saved her and I will forever be grateful for you.”

“She hates me, Hermione, how am I supposed to deal with that? How do I make her want me as her father? Right now, she doesn’t even know I am her father, when will we tell her?” He asked, his lashes fluttering when she planted a chaste kiss to his lips.

“Give her time to get over this and we’ll tell her together before you leave. I want her to know you’ll be coming back to her, to us, and I fully expect that. Whatever happens I want you to come back for us.”

….

**Nott Manor – Present Day**

Theo woke with a start, his legs propped up on the desk and a half empty glass of Fire-whiskey dripping on the antique parquet flooring. His neck was stiff and numb from research and lack of sleep and he groaned, rubbing to try to regain feeling. 

Although he’d found the information on wards in the book by Eastaughffe, he was struggling to find a way to make it work. There was barely any information and he hadn’t a clue how anyone could cast the spells necessary for removing or creating the wards.

Idly he set his feet back down on the floor and pushed his chair in, his long legs at an awkward angle. He noticed there was something protruding under the desk, behind the one drawer which contained spare quills and ink. Intrigued, he pushed out his chair and got onto his knees, swearing a little and complaining as they met the hard floor. The drawer looked to the casual observer, like a single drawer, but as he felt underneath it, he realised the drawer was far larger than expected. Pulling out his wand, he muttered, “Revelio,” watching the hidden bottom of the drawer appear.

Getting up, he pulled the tray open once more, removing its contents and feeling around the flat wood with his fingertips. There it was—a tiny lever which he popped and it instantly opened to reveal several dusty journals.

Theo had known his father was an avid record keeper, but he’d never found the place his journals had been stored. This was the place, and intrigued, he pulled out the first one, flicking through.

“Holy shit!” He stumbled back into his seat, breathing deeply.

He needed to contact Draco, now.

…..

**The New Order HQ, Cork, Ireland – Present day**

Once the wards were altered, the Grangers, as they felt free to call themselves once more, were subject to the most amazing three-hundred-year-old, Palladian country manor house, built in buttery local stone. It was between the size of a farmhouse and Manor house, with land and stud farm buildings to the east. Its windows denoted three floors and lush gardens surrounded the house with geometric topiary and a small fountain. Hermione could see a discrete walled garden through a stone arch and what she thought might be a small bluebell wood. It took her breath away.

“This is—” Hermione found herself speechless.

“Draco, this is a wonderful house, just gorgeous,” Monika answered for her and even Wendell hummed his approval.

“I haven’t been here for some years, but I’ve had the place cleaned and a housekeeper will come in each weekday. Mrs Byrne will come in to cook the evening meal every night apart from Saturday,” Draco flung open the double oak front door above which sat the Malfoy crest and they walked into an entrance hall decorated in cool creams. The Foyer contained a large dinner gong which Ayla spotted immediately, sending a loud cymbalic chime through the house. Draco was happy to see her smile with glee as she ran through an archway into the principal dining room, giggling as she hid under a highly polished Queen Anne dining table large enough to seat sixteen.

Draco seized his opportunity as he noticed Ayla run on ahead as he took the others on a tour, “I do wonder where Ayla disappeared to?” He chuckled as he saw her dart underneath an antique side table in the long gallery.

They climbed the sweeping staircase to the second floor and Draco showed Hermione’s parents to their suite, stopping further along the corridor to show Potter to a guest room and then on to the master suite. He scratched his head, “Err, this is your room, Hermione.”

She blinked and looked up at him, noticing an unusual blush to the usually stoic face, “We aren’t sharing then? Surely this is the master suite?” she murmured, “perhap’s you’re right though, it might be too soon.”

“I didn’t want to presume, we’ve only just, err, you know and with Ayla, I just thought, she barely knows me and if we’re honest, we need more time to get to know one another before we take any big steps,” he placed an arm around her shoulder and kissed her temple, “though I’ll visit you at night if you wish,” he whispered, clearing his throat as Ayla moved closer, trying not to be seen. “There is a nursery connected through this door where I thought Ayla could sleep, I-I wasn’t sure what toys she liked but—”

Ayla sped past them at the mere mention of toys and raced around the room picking up a menagerie of stuffed animals and talking to Pendragon like he was listening intently to her babble.

With a sigh of relief, he watched her happily playing in her room. He had never been a parent, but he could at least begin to try. 

“She’s mostly an easy child,” Hermione commented, “I think you may have wheedled your way into her heart a little bit,” she held up her thumb and forefinger to indicate how much.

Draco beamed as he moved a bit closer, hovering in the doorway revelling in how good it felt to make Ayla happy for once. He cleared his voice and pointed to another door, “This leads to a study, there’s a larger one downstairs, but I thought you might want to keep an eye on Ayla while you work.”

An Owl tapped on the window and Draco rushed to open it. His demeanour changed and he sucked in a deep breath, releasing it slowly.

“Theo needs to see us, he’s found something.”

“Both of us?” Hermione couldn’t help but feel anxious about meeting another Death Eater, even though she knew he was on their side, letting out a deep breath, she said.” Well, there’s no time like the present to get started on the plan. If we leave it much longer, you’ll be missed,” Hermione nodded.

….

Hermione was scoping out the 3rd floor for potential war rooms, she wanted a secure place the Order could meet should they come there and some bedrooms on that floor which were more secluded from the main house. The old servants quarters were based on this floor and there was a large-ish lounge without windows that made a great meeting room and she made a mental note to ask Draco if a table and chairs could be found to kit out the new command centre. Harry, Monika and Wendell were settling in, taking a rest to soothe their hangovers.

Draco noticed his daughter run downstairs and decided to follow. The house wasn’t quite child proof yet and he didn’t want her getting into another scrape. Once on the ground floor, he noticed the swinging door to the kitchens wavering slightly and decided to investigate.

What he saw stopped him in his tracks. Pendragon was on the counter shooting real fire from his nostrils and Ayla was balanced precariously on a stool before a cupboard containing biscuits. He watched with fascination as the tiny girl levitated a glass jar into her hands, wandlessly, and with barely a wobble. He leaned against the doorframe with a self-satisfied look and his arms crossed. This girl was certainly going to be a powerful witch one day and he was smug in the fact he had some responsibility for that.

Pendragon’s fiery breath ceased once Ayla placed the cookie jar on the counter, eagerly opening it and removing two. One for her and one for Pendragon, he noticed.

“Mrs Byrne won’t be happy if there are no biscuits left for her tea break,” Draco chuckled, watching Ayla spin around in shock.

“I-I—Pendragon wanted a biscuit,” she said finally, her eyes wide and afraid.

“Did he now? Then it can be our secret this time, but it’s best that you or Pendragon ask your mother in future if you want a treat, I know your grandparents tend to people’s teeth and they don’t like you eating too much sugar,” Draco said with a conspiratorial grin.

Ayla wasn’t sure how to take the man who’d taken her mummy but who’d saved her from the water that day, but he was smiling, so it couldn’t be all bad. She didn’t know if he’d seen her do the strange thing where her fingers tingled and the jar just came to her, but she was fairly certain he wasn’t going to tell on her, so she relaxed.

“Can I have one of those?” Draco asked, heading to the fridge and pouring her a glass of milk.

“How did you know?” She asked with wonder, passing him her second biscuit.

“How did I know what?” He raised an eyebrow, laughing when the little girl took her finger and pushed up her own eyebrow, looking fascinated by his facial oddity.

“How did you know I like milk?” She took a deep gulp and bit into her biscuit.

“Lots of people like milk, it’s good for you, or so my mother used to say,” he replied biting into his own.

They were both silent for a few minutes, sizing each other up.

“So,” Draco began, “how long have you been able to levitate things and for how long has Pendragon been able to breathe fire?” Draco spoke gently, trying not to spook her.

She flushed and fat tears welled in her eyes, “T-they happened at the same time,” her voice wobbled, “please don’t tell mummy, she’ll send me away because I’m naughty.”

Draco wanted to comfort her but instead settled for placing his hand further across the table, near her hand.

“It’s not naughty at all. Shall I let you into a little secret?”

She nodded furiously.

“I can do things too, magical things,” he withdrew his wand and made Pendragon dance on the counter.

Ayla’s eyes were wide as she encountered another doing what she could do. “Why can you do it Mr Draco?”

“It’s magic and only special people can do it, I’m a wizard and I just know how to do it, it’s a gift I was born with, and you have the same gift.”

She thought a while, “But why can’t mummy do it, or nana and Grandpops?”

Draco knew it wasn’t up to him to out Hermione to her daughter as a witch, that was a conversation she should have in her own way.

“How do you know they can’t?” He asked.

“Because I’ve never seen them do it,” she frowned.

“They’ve never seen you do it either though, have they?” He winked,

She shook her head.

“As I thought,” he chuckled, “for now, just be careful with what you do and you should speak to your mother, she understands more than you think,” he moved to stand and put her empty glass in the sink, but she spoke once more before he did.

“You’re my daddy, aren’t you?” Startling grey eyes met his with an inquisitive look. She hesitantly reached out across the counter to touch his hair.

Draco closed his eyes as her tiny hand whispered across the hair flopping across his brow.

“H-how do you know that?” He swallowed.

“We look the same but different,” she replied wisely.

This girl was Grangers daughter, filled with her intelligence, fire, curiosity and zest for knowledge.

Draco felt trapped. He knew Hermione wouldn’t want it blurted out in this way, but he also didn’t want to begin his relationship with his daughter based on a lie.

“Yes, ma fille, yes I am,” Draco couldn’t fathom why he’d used the French for my daughter but his mother had often used the French for my son as a term of endearment for him as a child, it just seemed to fit.

“Thought so,” she got down from the stool, grasped Pendragon in her small hand and skipped out of the kitchen.

Draco was left flabbergasted and with a lot to tell Hermione.

Hermione opened the door to the kitchen with a quizzical look on her face as he heard Ayla’s feet scuttling off down the corridor.

“Everything okay?” She asked.

Was everything okay? He wondered, could anything ever be the same again now he’d formed a small connection with his insightful child. “Could’ve been worse,” he smiled, dragging her into the kitchen for a joyful snog.

……

Theo arrived in Ireland via Portkey at four o-clock, carrying a satchel filled with his father’s journals. Luckily, Draco had altered the wards and he was able to walk right in.

“Hello!” He called out, noticing a tiny girl hiding around the corner, peering at him.

“Oh, hello, who are you?” He asked gently.

“I’m Ayla,” she skipped forward, “if you want them to come you have to do this,” she picked up the gong beater and let rip on the gong.

Theo covered his ears, “What a novel way to announce your arrival,” he chuckled as the girl ran off. Theo was now certain this was the child Draco believed to be his own and to be frank, with her flair for mischief, grey eyes, and platinum hair, he was pretty convinced too.

“What have I told you about banging that gong?” Hermione appeared on the stairs. Her face dropped when she saw Theo rather than a daughter to berate. The last time they had seen each other was before the final battle when Pansy Parkinson had called out to have Harry turned over to Voldemort.

“Granger, you’re looking good,” he bowed politely.

“Unlike you, Nott, who looks like shit. When did you last sleep?” She retorted, crossing her arms.

“Thanks ever so, and please don’t feel you need to mince your words around me, I’m glad you’re still as forthright, we’ll need that to get through this,” he smirked so similarly to Draco she had to do a double take.

“There’s something I need to say to you,” she withdrew her wand and marched towards him.

Theo reminded himself his father was probably one of the worst Death Eaters he’d ever come across, by addendum, so was he. Hermione Granger was a formidable witch and it took a lot of internal strength not to step back as she invaded his space with her wand drawn.

Hermione was not going to allow anyone to put any of them in danger and decided to use a little threat to ensure Theo was not going to backtrack on agreeing to help Draco and them by extension. She tipped up his chin with the tip of her wand, her arm outstretched to reach, he was at least a foot taller than her.

“If you are not one hundred percent in, Nott, or if you ever think of betraying any of us, I will make what the Dark Lord could do to you a picnic by comparison. My daughter is my main consideration and if any harm comes to her, I will reign down furious wrath on whoever is involved,” she sneered, “am I understood?”

Theo held up his hands, “Granger, you have nothing to worry about, I’m in, I’m in, alright?” He hated sounding like a coward, but Granger was possibly more terrifying than Bellatrix in that moment.

“Ah, Theo, you’re here, we’ve just been unpacking, I’ll make some tea.” Draco sauntered down the stairs, his eyes flittering over Hermione and Theo’s ashen face as he reached the lower step, “Is everything alright here?” 

Hermione gave Theo one last intense stare before dropping her wand. She believed Theo had got the message.

“You don’t have any help?” Theo peered around, trying to ignore the trickle of sweat Granger had caused to run down the nape of his neck, giving Granger a quick glance out of the corner of his eye.

“Not yet, we have a few people starting tomorrow, for now, I will be mother,” Draco gave Hermione a smile.

“This, I have got to see,” Hermione followed rubbing her hands gleefully and slapping Theo on the back to assure him things were okay after they’d got the threats out of the way, she held her hand out graciously for him to enter the lounge.

By the time Draco returned with a tray set for tea and some little cakes he’d found in the pantry the temperature between Hermione and Theo was far warmer. “I am a perfect host, I’ll have you know,” Draco laughed quietly, spotting Ayla hovering outside the door eyeing the cakes.

Hermione and Theo were already looking at some books they’d spread out on the table, so Draco took the opportunity to levitate a cake over to Ayla, holding his finger to his mouth with a shushing motion.

Harry strolled in, rubbing his mussed hair after his nap, “Thought I heard voices,” he said, snagging a cake and looking at the interaction between father and daughter with a grin. “Nott, good to see you again,” Harry shook the wizard’s hand jovially like he hadn’t been on the wrong side of the war for five years and they’d got on like a house on fire at school.

Theo was gobsmacked, “You’ve got Harry Potter, here, in your house. How in the world did you find him?” The was incredibly surprised, not that he doubted his best friend’s capability, it was just he’d achieved what hundreds of Death Eaters had not in five years.

“He should have been more careful,” Draco sniped.

“Fuck off, Malfoy, you wouldn’t have found me if I didn’t want to be found,” Harry bickered.

“Well, fuck me, good job, mate.” Theo clapped Draco on the back.

“Boys, will you please keep your language clean in front of Ayla,” Hermione reprimanded.

Ayla ran over and sat on her mother’s lap as Hermione sat down. Hermione shot Harry a look and he got the message. “Ayla, I’m going out to look at the stables, perhaps we might see some animals, would you like to come along?” He held out his hand to her.

She felt a little nervous, after all she didn’t know Mr Harry very well yet but his kindly eyes helped make up her mind, plus she was intrigued by his scar, it was a funny shape and wanted to ask him about it.

“It’s okay, sweetheart, Harry wont bite,” Hermione urged her, “and you might find some ladybirds here, Harry will help you look. They have red ones here, not yellow like in Australia.”

Hermione knew her daughter loved looking for ladybirds, or ladybeetles as most called them back home.

“We can fill Harry in on what we find later,” Hermione said as she listened to her daughter chattering with him as they exited the house.

“So, what have you found?” Draco popped a small piece of cake into his mouth as he poured the tea.

“I wasn’t sure I believed it when I found them, my father’s journals, since he died I thought they were lost or perhaps never existed at all,” Theo held up a pile of the ones he’d felt were relevant. “Granger, I’m sorry but there’s some harsh, disgusting things in them and I’m afraid it’s probably best to only read what you need to,” he said as he passed her the first one.

She was prepared for the hatred that might spill from the pages but attempted to focus regardless. When Theo removed his hand away, all of the pages became blank. “Err, Theo, I think these have been warded, only to be read by the Nott family.”

“What? This is awkward. Alright, sit beside me and I’ll keep my hand on the journal while you read,” he pointed to one entry while holding open the large tomb he’d brought, “see here, there’s a feint corresponding number in the book with the journal.”

Hermione scooted closer and peered closer as Draco looked over her shoulder.

“See, this here seems to detail protective wards. I can’t be sure but I think my father’s blood was required to seal the wards,” he released his hand and carded his hand through his hair, a lump in his throat, “he was murdered by the Dark Lord for something so trivial, even your aunt seemed surprised, but I’m thinking he thought my fathers death was necessary and would ensure nobody could break the wards on the diadem. I, however, think differently…”

“You think he’s made a mistake, don’t you? That Nott blood could be used, not just your fathers,” Hermione interjected.

“He wasn’t a good man, and he deserved what he got, but…ah, there’s no point in saying it to you, I doubt you’d understand, Granger…”

She rose, if Nott was going to be a part of their new Order of the Phoenix, she would need to make sure he was okay, felt included, felt he was doing something for the greater good. It was obvious he was hurt over the loss of his father. “Hey Theo,” she placed a gentle hand on his arm, “it’s okay to care about his loss, to have loved him. It doesn’t matter what I think, he was your father, no matter what he did.”

Theo looked up with tears in his eyes, “Draco, I don’t know what you did but the gods shone down on you the day you found her,” he sniffed and wiped at his eyes, “you’d better take good care of her or I’ll whip her out from under your nose and keep her for myself.”

Draco gave an affronted snort, “Like she’d want a lanky steak of piss like you, Theo, you’re kidding yourself.”

Hermione lay her head on Theo’s shoulder and patted his back, “Oh, you’re very sure of yourself, aren’t you Malfoy?” she giggled.

“We’ll be right back, mate,” Draco gently took her by the arm and led her out of the room into the hallway.

“Come here, sly little minx,” Draco tugged her into his arms, snogging her deeply and sinfully biting at her lip, staking a claim on his witch, or as far as she would allow it for now.

Theo stood, catching a peek of them around the edge of the door, staring at them with wide eyes as Hermione let out a tiny, unbidden moan. “Fuck, I think I just came,” he said to himself dropping his head back to look at the ceiling, “I need a shag badly.”

“Hey, less of that,” Hermione slapped Draco’s arm, “we’ve got company,” she indicated Theo back inside the room.

“Dearest Granger, I couldn’t give less of a fuck.” Draco chuckled and kissed her once more.


End file.
